I. From the great gulf of the sea, and from the troubles of the ports and from the perilous lighthouse, thanks to God, I have escaped. So I can say and relate that I have endured many hardships there, and many torments. And since it pleases God that I should return with a joyful heart to the Limousin which I left sorrowfully, I thank Him for the return and the honour, since He grants me this.

II. I surely ought to thank God, since he wishes me to return healthy and strong to the country where a certain corner of a garden is worth more than having riches and prosperity from another land. For the fair welcoming words and honourable actions and pleasing conversations of our lady alone, and her gifts of amorous intimacy, and her sweet expression, are worth all that any other land can offer.

III. Now I am right to sing, since I witness joy and merriment, sociability, and the courting of ladies, since this is your good pleasure; and the bright springs and streams, the meadows and orchards bring happiness to my heart, for everything is a delight to me now that I fear neither sea nor Garbin (south-west), Maïstre (south) nor Ponen (west) wind, and my ship doesn’t roll, and I’m no longer terrified by galleys or swift warships.

IV. It is right and certainly not wrong for a man to take on such adversities in order to win God and save his soul. But if anyone with evil intent goes to sea, where one suffers so many torments, in order to rob, it often happens in a short space of time that, when he thinks he’s going up, he’s going down, so that in despair he abandons everything and throws away life and soul and gold and silver.