| CUER DESIROUS APAIE ... | A HONEYED CONSOLATION ... |
| Blondel de Nesle | trans. James H.Donalson |
|
Cuer desirous apaie Douçours et confors; Par joie d'amour vraie Sui en baisant mors. S'encor ne m'est autres dounez, Mar fui onques de li privez. A morir sui livrez, Se trop le me delaie. Premiers baisiers est plaie D'Amours dedenz cors; Mout m'angoisse et esmaie, si ne pert defors. He! las! por coi m'en sui vantez! Ja ne me puet venir santez, Se ce, dont sui navrez, ma bouche ne rassaie. Amours, vous me feïstes Mon fin cuer trichier, Qui tel savour meïstes En son douz baisier, A morir li avez apris, Se pluz n'i prent qu'il n'i a pris; Dont m'est il bien a vis, Qu'en baisant me trahistes. Certes, mout m'atraisistes Juene a cel mestier; N'ainc nului n'i vous istes Fors moi engignier. Je sui li plus loiauz amis. Cui onques fust nus biens pramis. He! las! tant ai je pis! Amours, mar me nourristes! Se je Dieu tant amaisse, Con je fais celi, Qui si me painne et lasse, J'eüsse merci; Qu'ainc amis de meilleur voloir ne la servi pour joie avoir, Con j'ai fait tout pour voir Sanz merite et sanz grasse. Se de faus cuer proiaisse, Dont je ne la pri, Espoir je recovraisse; Maiz n'est mie einsi. Amours, trop me faites doloir; Et se vous serf sanz decevoir, Ce me tient en espoir: Qu'Amours nevre et repasse. |
A honeyed consolation will soothe anxious hearts by true love's exultation I die by a kiss unless another's given me I never will be free of it. I'm delivered to death If there's too much delaying. At first, a kiss is pleasure of Love in the heart: it brings dismay and anguish if it's lost without; ah, then alas, why should I boast my health no longer can return by what I'm deprived of: my mouth has no returning. Love, you have made within me a treacherous heart, for you've put such a savor into your sweet kiss that you have taught it how to die unless it takes more than it did wherefore I clearly see in kissing, you've betrayed me. You surely drew me greatly while young, to this means. You never would deceive another, just me. I am the loyallest of friends who ever had a promise made; ah! so much worse for me! Love, you have served me badly. Had I loved God so greatly as I have loved her, and if I were tormented I'd have mercy then, And even well-intentioned friends have been no help in having joy as I've done all to see unthanked and unrewarded. If I asked out of falseness (but that's not the case) I could get back my hoping, but it's not like that. O Love, you make me ache too much and if I serve without deceit this will keep up my hopes, for Love heals what he wounded. |