| CANSO | I'M WAGING WAR ON LOVE ... |
| Raimbaut de Vaqueiras | trans. James H. Donalson (from Provençal) |
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Eissamen ai gerreiat ab amor co·l francs vassals gerrei' ab mal seinhor, que·il tol sa terr' a tort, per que·l gerreia, e quan conois que·il gerra pro no·il te, pel sieu cobrar ven puois a sa merce; et eu ai tant de joi cobrar enveia c'ad amor quier merce del sieu pechat e mon orgoilh torn en humilitat. Gauch ai cobrat, merce de la meilhor, que·m restaura lo dan q'ai pres ailhor. e s'amistat per plaich d'amor m'autreia ma belha dompn' e per sieu me rete e·m promet tant per que·l reprovier cre que ditz: 'qui ben gerreia, ben plaideia'; qu'en chantan ai ab amor gerreiat tant c'ab midonz n'ai meilhor plait trobat. El mon non a rei ni emperador qu'en lieis amar non agues plaich d'onor, car sa valors e sos pretz seignoreia sobre totas las pros dompnas c'om ve, car meilhs s'enanss' e plus gen si capte e mieilhs acuoilh e mieilhs parl' e dompneia, e mostr' als pros son pretz e sa beutat, salva s'onor, e reten de totz grat. Dompna, ben sai, si merces no·m socor, qu'eu non vailh tant que·us tainh' ad amador, car tant valetz, per que mos cors feuneia car non puosc far tant rics faitz co·us cove a mi que·us am; empero no·m recre de vos amar, que vassals, puois derreia, deu poinher tant tro fassa colp honrat, per qu'ie·us enquis pois m'aguetz conseilh dar. S'ieu non sui rics segon vostra ricor ni pro valens a vostra gran valor, mon poder fatz, e sui cel que·us merceia e·us serv e·us blan e vos am mais que re e·m gart de mal e m'esfortz de tot be per vostr' amor, e mieilhs mi par que deia pros dompn' amar bon cavalhier prezat endreich d'amor c'un ric outracujat. Vostre beilh huoilh plazen, galiador, rizon d'aisso don eu sospir e plor, e l'adreitz cors qu'ades genss' e coindeia m'auci aman, tals enveia m'en ve; e si ab vos non trob amor e fe, mais no·m creirai en ren c'auia ni veia, ni·m fiarai en dompna d'aut barat, ni ja non vuoilh c'autra·m don s'amistat. E1 Bels cavalhiers, vostr' amors mi guerreia, e prec merce e franc' humilitat c'aissi·us venssa cum vos m'avetz sobrat. E2 Na Beatritz, las melhors an enveya de vostre pretz e de vostra beutat, que gensa vos e·l don de Monferrat. |
I'm waging war on love in the same way that a good vassal wars on a bad lord who wrongly takes his land, as cause for war, and afterwards he learns it's profitless: He begs for mercy to regain his rights. I, too, have longings to recover joy: I beg love's pardon for the sin that's done and change my pride into humility. Thanks to the best of ladies, I have joy, restoring harm done by the other one; and my fair lady grants her friendship now and liberally retains me for herself, and promises so much that I believe the saying: "He who fights well, settles well." In singing I have so long fought for love that with my lady I have settled well. The world has not a king or emperor who, loving her, would not have settlement, for with her worth and merit she stands out above all other ladies that one sees, for she advances better, with more grace, receiving better, better holding court, revealing to the best her worth and looks with honor, and with all approving her. Lady, I know if mercy doesn't help, I won't be worth as much as lovers should: you are so worthy that my heart is vexed for I can't do such deeds as it behooves the one who loves you, but I can't desist from loving, as a soldier in the ranks must drive on till he strikes an honest blow: so I have sought your love since you advised. If I'm not rich enough to match your birth or valiant to compare with your great worth, yet I do what I can, so pity me: I serve but you and love you over all and stay away from ills and strive for good, all for your love, and best it seems to me for ladies to love reputable knights, not loving one presumptuous but rich. Your beauteous eyes delight and they deceive, they laugh at what can make me sigh and weep. Your upright body, noble and refined can make me die of love, I want it so, and if I can't find love and faith with you, I'll not believe a thing I see or hear, nor will I trust a lady of high birth, or even want her friendship to be given. E1 Fair knight, your love is making war on me: and I pray mercy and humility may vanquish you as you have done to me. E2 My lady Beatrice, your beauty and your worth are envied by the best of them who honor you and him of Montferrat. |
Trans. Copyright © James H. Donalson 2003