Ballad Xvii Poem by Christine de Pizan

Severe or slight, my heart has felt no wound
From Love’s sharp arrows that they say make war
On many of us folk, I’ve not been bound
God be thanked, by prison or snares, what’s more,
Of the god of Love.
Nothing I ask, nothing I seek to move,
Without him I live in joy and sunlight:
I love no lover: I want no love’s delight.

I’m not afraid either of being enslaved
By a glance or a gift or a long pursuit,
Nor of drowning deep in flattery’s wave,
For my heart there’s no man would suit:
Let none call above
For succour from me, I’d reject his love
Immediately, and tell him outright:
I love no lover: I want no love’s delight.

I laugh indeed at a woman who’s bound:
In such danger, she’d surely be better
To seize any sword or dagger around
And kill herself, having lost her honour.
And therefore I choose
To pass my days in this state and muse:
Saying to all who would love me quite:
I love no lover, I want no love’s delight.

Lord of Love, what use at your court am I?
I love no lover, I want no love’s delight.