I've just gone from looking up a transcendentally beautiful mediaeval hymn to Mary Magdalene (O Maria, prius via), to this thread. Sublimes with the ridiculous one, as the translator would have it.

Just has in love meringues to all of you!

This doesn't fare too badly:

The proud ************* proud Maisrie

of Maisrie amounts to the door of its father
directly like magic pasture staff
to it a gardner child,
with a red in its hand put up come there,
its hand red from A in its hand put up.

And it to have mine it waived well fairly,
if you will give me your flower,
and under which I will make a dress for thee for flowers
in yard of your father,
will make for thee I a dress for thee.

The lily space bar will be its shirt,
it to liebkosender bodies,
and the concern waived your stays to be,
with a red at your center, your center
with a red at your center waived itself.

Their dress the parfuemierte thymian,
you celandine of apron,
your chamomile under skirt to be,
just has in love meringues and is connected and connected,
just has in love meringues and connected.

Their gloves will be the clover flower,
those pour là-bas in the lawn out,
I them honestly with the poppies will sew,
which develop under corn, corn,
which develop under corn.

Their feet, which I will tighten with the red road the shoes,
that one develops in the garden fine,
I rayeront it with the fairy taleful ferns,
come connects your love with mine,
with mine, comes connects your love with mine.

For, since you made a dress for me,
under which summers flowers,
then I clothes the thee under the winter showers showers
under the winter showers will make.

The white milk snow will be your shirt,
which embraces cold weather of your body,
and which will be rigid rains your coat
with a black thunderstorm in its face your face
with a black thunderstorm in your face.

The horse, which you will put up at the time,
will be the winter impact,
I a brake at it with the breath of the wind of the north will place
and at the measurer pointed showers of the hail of the hail
and at the measurer pointed showers of the hail.

The hat of the clouds on your head
will be the grey of southron,
and each time that, which you ignore close,
I will wish myself you far far far
you to wish far far.