An Amorous Ardor, Poem by Jean-Antoine de Baïf

An amorous ardor,
If it is not feigned,
Never drives from the heart
Suspicion and fear.

Such is the state of Love
“” Which joys
“” Exchanges in turn
“” And sorrows.

The more I am in love,
The more I suspect
That your languorous heart
Elsewhere gives itself.

From you I often have
Beautiful words,
But I write in the wind
Such frivolous things.

If like my faith
Were yours,
You would feel within yourself
The pain that is mine.

As, as much as I can,
The faithful love,
To which I am bound,
I reveal to you,

So by your power
Your great love
Now you would make me see
At my request.

If your heart does not belie
Your certain voice,
Prove to me then how
It is not vain.

If our hearts are the same,
I am amazed
That both of them do not go
To the same end.

Will and love
Are the same thing,
When with the same return
The one and the other love.

Where the will is the same
And the power,
Who keeps it from attaining
Enjoyment?

Jean-Antoine de Baïf

Translation generated by Poésies 123 with assistance from the deepseek-chat artificial-intelligence model.

Text published on Poésies 123: https://www.poesies123.com/en/poem-an-amorous-ardor-jean-antoine-de-baif/