S'il est vrai Cloris que tu m'aimes,
Mais j'entends que tu m'aimes bien,
Je ne crois pas que les Rois mêmes
Aient un bonheur pareil au mien.
Que la mort serait importune,
A venir changer ma fortune
Pour la felicité des Dieux;
Tout ce qu'on dit de l'ambrosie
Ne touche point ma fantaisie,
Aux prix des grâces de tes yeux.
If it is true, Chloris, that you love me,
but I mean that you really love me,
I do not believe that even the kings
have a happiness equal to mine.
How obtrusive death would be,
to come and exchange my fortune
for the blessing of the Gods;
all that is said of ambrosia
does not touch my imagination
at the expense of the charms of your eyes.
© translated by Christopher Goldsack
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