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FOLK-SONGS OF LOWER BRITTANY.
The rain and the wind whipped me, Until my garments dripped.
Nothing came to console me
Except the sound of breathing from her bed.
Except the sound of breathing from her bed, Which came through the little hole for the key.
Three pairs of shoes I have worn out, Her thought I do not know.
The fourth pair I have begun to wear, Her thought I do not know.
Five pairs, alas, in good count, Her thought I do not know.
— If it is my thought you wish to know, It is not I, who will make a mystery of it.
There are three roads on each side of my house, Choose one among them.
Choose whichever you like among them, Provided it will take you far from here.
— More is worth love, since it pleases me,
Than wealth with which I do not know what to do.
Wealth comes, and wealth it goes away, Wealth serves for nothing.
Wealth passes like the yellow pears : Love endures for ever.