| LE GRAND TESTAMENT - LVII-LXIV | THE TESTAMENT - LVII-LXIV |
| François Villon | tr. Peter Dean |
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LVII Ceste leçon icy leur baille La belle et bonne de jadiz. Bien dit ou mal, vaille que vaille, Enregistrer j'ay fait ses diz Par mon clerc Fremin l'estourdiz, Aussi rassiz que je pense estre, S'il me desment, je le mauldiz: Selon le clerc est deu le maistre. LVIII Sy aperçoy le grant danger Ouquel omme amoureux se boute. Et qui me vouldroit laidanger De ce mot, en disant: "Escoute! Se d'amer t'estrange et reboute Le barrat de celles nommees, Tu faiz une bien folle doubte, Car ce sont femmes diffamees. LIX S'ilz n'ayment fors que pour l'argent, On ne les ayme que pour l'eure; Rondement ayment toute gent Et rient lors quant bourse pleure. De celles cy n'est qui ne queure; Mais en femmes d'onneur et nom Franc homme, se Dieu me sequeure, Se doit emploier; ailleurs non." LX Je prens qu'aucune dye cecy, Sy ne me contente il en rien. En effect il conclud ainsi, Et je le cuide entendre bien, Qu'on doit amer en lieu de bien. Assavoir mon se ces fillectes Qu'en parolles toute jour tien, Ne furent ilz femmes honnestes? LXI Honnestes si furent vrayment, Sans avoir reprouches ne blasmes. Sy est vray qu'au commencement Une chacune de ces femmes Lors prindrent, ainsi qu'eussent diffames. L'une ung clerc, ung lay, l'autre ung moyne, Pour estaindre d'amours les flasmes Plus chaudes que feu saint Antoyne. LXII Or firent selon ce decret Leurs amys, et bien y appert: Ilz amoient en lieu secret, Car autre d'eulx n'avoit part. Touteffoiz ceste amour se part, Car celle qui n'en avoit q'um De celluy s'eslongne et depart Et ayme mieulx aymer chascun. LXIII Qui les meut a ce? G'ymagine, Sans l'onneur des dames blasmer, Que c'est nature femininne Qui tout unyement veult amer. Autre chose n'y sçay rimer Fors qu'on dit a Rains et a Troys, Voire a L'Isle et a Saint Omer, Que six ouvriers font plus que trois. LXIV Or ont ces folz amans le bont Et les dames prins la vollee; C'est le droit loier qu'amans ont, Toute foy y est vïollee, Quelque doulx baisier n'acollee. De chiens, d'oiseaulx, d'armes, d'amours, C'est pure verité devollee Pour ung joye cent doulours. |
LVII This moral tale I here address to all the lovelies of yesteryear. Whether done well or ill I stress it’s my clerk, Fremin, who can’t hear, who’s taken it all down and he’s better endowed than I could be. What a clerk does should master please. He’s wrong? His ear will get a flea. LVIII Thus I perceive the dangerous hole into which lovers headlong run: whom with this word I would console, telling them: "Get a hold, my son! If female wiles like those above have turned you off and quenched your fire, you’re way off track, you’re wrong about love, for these were women of desire. LIX If they make love only for cash, and just for the moment you can love them; don’t care with whom they have a bash and laugh while debts grab hold of them, there’s no-one asks their state of health. But with a woman true and honest a free man trusts his life and wealth. Not else! God knows - it’s for the best!" LX From all this here’s the line I take - I can’t accept one jot or tittle: it ends thus, if I don’t mistake and I heard well - In sum and little one should love only where it’s sound. Suffice to say those chatty lasses with whom I once spent time aren’t found honest enough women - and no alases! LXI Honest? They truly were indeed: free were they of reproach or blame. It’s also true that, out of need, for starters each took, to her shame, these women who became corrupted, this one a clerk, this monk, this squire, to quell the flames as love erupted hotter than St. Antony’s fire. LXII Their lovers followed the decree and understood it very well: they made love where no-one could see, nor of it none but they could tell. However this love fell apart: for she, far from possessing any, suddenly left him like a dart, prefering to be loved by many. LXIII What led to this? I imagine, not to impugn a lady’s honour, it’s part of what’s being feminine - loving to have love thrust upon her. How else to explain I cannot rhyme unless by what at Rheims all agree (at Trois, Lille, St. Omer too in time ...) that six workers do more than three. LXIV Thus foolish lovers get the gun and lovely ladies take the volley: it’s law when such a love’s begun by which true faith is seen as folly, a few soft kisses won’t compensate. "With hounds, hawks, war and love," they say spontaneously - it’s what all state - "one joy, a hundred ills to pay!" |
Trans. Copyright © Peter Dean 2003