Perché te m'ha promess 'na bea giornata
che son vegnù da ti senza mantel
par po 'assar che nùvoe par strada
sconde in brut fumo tut el to bel?

E no me basta che te me torne fora
a sugarme el viso dal temporal,
nissun pol voér pomata par sora 
che giusta i taji e no guarisse el mal.

Né 'a to vergogna mitiga 'a pena,
anca se te pente 'a bota resta
ché'l doeor de chi offende cura apena
el cuor de chi, offeso, sbassa ' a testa.

Ma l'é perle 'e 'àgreme che t'ha pers
perle che riscata el to far pervers

Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day,
And make me travel forth without my cloak,
To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way,
Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke?

'Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break,
To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face,
For no man well of such a salve can speak
That heals the wound and cures not the disgrace:

Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief;
Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss:
The offender's sorrow lends but weak relief
To him that bears the strong offence's cross.

Ah! but those tears are pearl which thy love sheds,
And they are rich and ransom all ill deeds.