I Must Sing of That by La Contessa Beatritz de Dia

I must sing of that which I would rather not,
so bitter I am towards him who is my love:
for I love him more than anyone;
my kindness and courtesy make no impression on him,
nor my beauty, my virtue or my intelligence;
so I am deceived and betrayed,
as I should be if I were unattractive

One thing consoles me: that I have never wronged you,
my love, by my behaviour towards you;
indeed I