Paroles de Ballade C.3.3.
Yet, each man kills the things he lovesBut each, let this be heard
Some do it with a bitter look
Some with a flattering word
The coward does it with a kiss
The brave man, with a sword
Some kill their loved when they are young
Some when they are old
Some strangle with the hands of lust
Some with the hands of gold
The kindest use a knife
Because the dead so soon grow cold
Some love too little
Some too long
Some sell and others buy
Some do a deed with money tears
Some without a sigh
For each man kills the thing that he loves
Yet, each man kills the thing he loves
By each, let this be heard
Some do it with a bitter look
Some with a flattering word
The coward does it with a kiss Some strangle with the hands of lust
Some with the hands of gold
The kindest use a knife
Because the dead soon grow cold
Some love too little
Some too long
Some sell and others buy
Some do a deed with money tears
Some without a sigh
For each man kills the thing that he loves
