| CHANSON | SONG |
| Thibaut IV de Champagne, Roi de Navarre | tr. Peter Dean |
Une chanson encor voil Faire, pour moi conforter, Pour celi dont je me doil Voeil mont chant renoveler: Por ce ai talent de chanter Car quant je ne chant, mi oil Tornent sovent en plorer. Simple et france sans orgoil Quidai ma dame trover: Molt me fut de bel acoil, Més ce fut pour moi grever, Si sont á li mi penser, Ke la nuit, quant je sommoil, Va mes cuer merci crier. | One more love-song let me sing For my heart’s delighting, For the one to whom I’d cling Let my song be enditing; For here’s the source of all my singing. When I can’t my eyes they sting With tears there’s no suppressing. Purely and simply may it spring To where my lady’s resting: Me much happiness that would bring, But then, for me no blessing If me her thought’s not missing, Such that, nights, on slumber’s wing Heart cries out for pitying. |
Trans. Copyright © Peter Dean 2007