Geoffrey Chaucer, Complaint To His Purse - (Forrest Hainline's Minimalist Translation) Poem by Forrest Hainline

To you, my purse, and no other wight
Complain I, for you be my lady dear
I am so sorry now that you be light,
For certain, but less you make me heavy cheer
Me were as lief be laid upon my bier
For which unto your mercy thus I cry
Be heavy again, or else must I die!

Now vouchsafe this day for it be night,
That I of you the blissful sound may hear,
Or see your color like the sun bright,
That of yellowness had never peer
Queen of comfort and of good company;
Be heavy again, or else must I die!

Now purse, that be to me my life's light
And savior, as down in this world here,
Out of this town help me through your might,
Since that you will not be my treasurer
For I am shaved as nigh as is a friar!
But yet I pray unto your courtesy,
Be heavy again, or else must I die!