– Translated from Beatritz de Dia’s Occitan original

True love carries its share of joy,
so these words sing too of joy,
and I don’t worry or fret,
or let my spirits get down,
though the gossips aim to hurt us.
Their trash talk doesn’t scare me—
I laugh and laugh at the crap they say,
since it urges me to act twice as gay.

Those foul–mouths earn zero trust from me,
and you who want an open life,
won’t believe their lies in honesty.
They are clouds that spread, spread,
and open across the sky,
until the sun is blotted out;
they don’t deserve
to be talked about.

And you, my whining spouse,
I’ve seen the way to leave.
I lean towards joy and new life,
away from grief that named me wife.

    – Original Occitan

Estat ai en greu cossirier
per qu’eu chan plus gaiamen,
e no m’o teing a pensanssa,
ni a negun penssamen,
car sai que son a mon dan
fals lausengier e truan.
e lor mals diz non ‘esglaia;
anz en son dos tanz plus gaia.

En mi non an ges fianssa
li lauzengier mal dizen,
c’om non pot aver honranssa
qu’a ab els acordamen;
qu’ist son d’altrestal semblan
com la niuols que s’espan
qu. l solels en pert sa raia,
per qu’eu non am gent savaia.

E vos, gelos mal parlan,
no. s cuges que m’an tarzan,
que iois e iovenz no. m plaia,
per tal que dols vos deschaia.