Although the season is joyful everywhere, / And mountain and valley are all verdant, / That would seem a truly small matter to him / Who has met mischance in love.

What use is it for me to force my nature? / For my nature shall always remain / What it is and conquer what belongs to it, / However men may narrow its path.

The soul who is most untouched is the most like to God.

For this is love's truth; she joins two in one being, makes sweet sour, strangers neighbors, and the lowly noble.

The new year has begun for us. / Now must God grant us with love / That we may be able so to begin it / That it may be of value for Love.

They who live without Love are dead. / But the worst of all deaths is this -- / That the loving soul be cowardly toward Love; / For perfect Love is never cowardly, / But claims its rights, which it lacks.

Love has seven names, / Which, as you know, are appropriate to her; / Chain, light, live coal, and fire - / ... dew, living spring, and hell.