letra de prologue - bishi
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whan that aprille with his shoures soote
the droghte of march hath perced to the roote
and bathed every veyne in swich licóur
of which vertú engendred is the flour;
whan zephirus eek with his swete breeth
inspired hath in every holt and heeth
the tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
hath in the ram his halfe cours y-ronne
and smale foweles maken melodye
that slepen al the nyght with open ye
so priketh hem natúre in hir corages
thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages
and palmeres for to seken straunge strondes
to ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes;
and specially, from every shires ende
of engelond, to caunterbury they wende…
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