A Ballad of Complaint*
My heart neither knows how to nor is able to complain of half of the pain in my heart, nor what torment I have, even if I should forever be in your presence, lady of my heart, as truly as he who saved me also wished to make all Goodness and to engrave all Beauty in your person, and bid them both together ever to await, and always be where you were.
As surely he guide all my joys here and to you sad and true, as I am yours, and you, my life and cause of my good spirits, my death also, when you my pains renew, my world’s joy, whom I will serve and follow, my entire heaven, and all my satisfaction, whom for to serve is set all my delight.
I beseech you in my most humble way to accept the value of this little poor poem, and because of my faithfulness despise not my service, and hold not in disdain not my dutiful attention, and do not allow me to suffer too long in this plight; I beseech you, lady of my heart, to hear my complaint, since I serve you, and ever will year after year.
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1 This poem, like the three above, is not fully accepted as authentically Chaucer’s own work.
Translated and Edited by Gerard NeCastro
© Copyright, 2007, All Rights Reserved
Citation. Chaucer, Geoffrey. A Ballad of Complaint. NeCastro, Gerard, ed. and trans. eChaucer: https://www.echaucer.com. [Site Visit Date.]
