| En medio a mis colores, ay,
|
| pintando estaba un día, ay,
|
| cuando la musa mía, ay,
|
| me vino a tormentar, ay.
|
| Ay, con dolor pues dejo
|
| empresa tan feliz
|
| cual es de bellae Nice
|
| las prendas celebrar, ay.
|
| Quiso que yo pintase, ay,
|
| objeto sobrehumano, ay,
|
| pero lo quiso en vano, ay,
|
| lo tuvo que dejar, ay.
|
| Ay, con dolor pues dejo
|
| empresa tan feliz
|
| cual es de bellae Nice
|
| las prendas celebrar, ay.
|
| Conoce la hermosura, ay,
|
| un corazón vagado, ay,
|
| mas su destin malvado, ay,
|
| Ie impide de centar, ay.
|
| Ay, con dolor pues dejo
|
| empresa tan feliz
|
| cual es de bellae Nice
|
| las prendas celebrar, ay.
|
| Surrounded by my colours
|
| I was painting one day
|
| when my Muse
|
| came to torment me.
|
| With sadness then I left
|
| my happy task
|
| of celebrating the charms
|
| of the fair Nice.
|
| My Muse asked me to depict
|
| a more spiritual subject;
|
| but she asked in vain,
|
| for I could not do so.
|
| With sadness then I left
|
| my happy task
|
| of celebrating the charms
|
| of the fair Nice.
|
| An inconstant heart
|
| may know beauty,
|
| but its cruel destiny
|
| prevents it from singing.
|
| With sadness then I left
|
| my happy task
|
| of celebrating the charms
|
| of the fair Nice. |