CANSO-SIRVENTES I DON'T LIKE WINTER ...
Raimbaut de Vaqueiras trans. James H. Donalson
(from Provençal)
No m'agrad' iverns ni pascors
ni clars temps ni fuoills de garrics,
car mos enans mi par destrics
e totz mos majer gaugz dolors,
e son maltrag tuit miei lezer
e desesperat miei esper;
e si·m sol amors e dompneis
tener gai plus que l'aiga·l peis!
E pois d'amor me sui partitz
cum hom issillatz e faiditz,
tot' autra vida·m sembla mortz
e totz autre jois desconortz.

Pois d'amor m'es faillida·il flors
e·l dolz fruitz e·l grans e l'espics,
don gauzi' ab plazens prezics
e pretz m'en sobrav' et honors
e·n sabi' entre·ls pros caber,
era·m fai d'aut en bas cazer;
e si no·m sembles fols esfreis,
anc flama plus tost non s'esteis,
qu'ieu for' esteins e relinquitz
e perdutz en faitz et en digz
lo jorn que·m venc lo desconortz
que non merma, cum que·m refortz.

Bels armatz e bos feridors,
setges e calabres e pics,
e traucar murs nous et antics,
e vensser batailhas e tors
vei et aug; e non puosc aver
rem que·m puosc' ad amor valer!
E vauc cercan ab rics arneis
gerras e coitas e torneis,
don sui conqueren enriquitz;
e pois jois d'amor m'es failhitz
totz lo mons no·m parri' us ortz,
ni mos chans no m'es mais confortz.

Doncs, que·m val conquistz ni ricors?
qu'eu ja·m tenia per plus rics
quand er' amatz e fis amics,
e·m paissi' ab n'Engles amors;
n'amava mais un sol plazer
que sai gran terr' e gran aver,
c'ades on plus mos poders creis
ai major ir' ab mi mezeis,
pois mos Bels Cavalhiers grazitz
e jois m'es loinhatz et fugitz,
don mais no·m naissera conortz,
per qu'es majer l'ir' e plus fortz.

Pero no·m comanda valors,
si be·m sui iratz ni enics,
qu'ieu don gaug a mos enemics
tan qu'en perda pretz ni lauzors,
qu'ancar puosc dan e pro tener,
e sai d'irat joios parer
sai entre·ls Latins e·ls Grezeis;
e·l marques, que l'espaza·m seis,
gerreia Blacs e Drogoiz,
et anc pois lo mons fon bastitz
nuilha gens non fetz tant d'esfortz
cum nos, cui Dieus a gent estortz.

Lo marques n'es honratz e sors
e·l Campanes e·l coms Enricx,
Sicar, Montos e Salanicx
e Constantinople socors,
quar gent sabon camp retener,
e pot hom ben proar en ver:
qu'anc mais nulha gent non ateis
aitan gran honor, apareys.
Per bos vassals, valens, arditz,
es nostr' emperis conqueritz,
e Dieus trameta nos esfortz
coissi·s trai' a cap nostra sortz!

Anc Alixandres non fetz cors
ni Carles ni·l reis Lodoics
tan honrat, ni·l pros n'Aimerics
ni Rotlans ab sos poinhadors
non saubron tan gen conquerer
tan ric emperi per poder
cum nos, don poja nostra leis;
qu'emperadors e ducs e reis
avem faitz, e chastels garnitz
prop dels Turcs a dels Arabitz,
et ubertz los camins e·ls portz
de Brandiz tro al Bratz Sain Jorz.

E1
Per nos er Domas envazitz
e Jerusalem conqueritz
e·l renhes de Suri' estortz,
que·ls Turcx o trobon en lur sortz.

E2
Los pellegris perjurs, fraiditz,
qui nos an sai en camp gequitz,
qui los manten e cortz es tortz,
que chascuns val mens vius que mortz.

E3
Belhs dous Engles, francx et arditz,
cortes, essenhatz, essernitz,
vos etz de totz mos gaugz conortz,
e quar viu ses vos, fatz esfortz.
 I don't like winter or the spring:
clear sky or greening leaf of oak,
for my advancement seems a loss
and all my greatest joys are grief
and all my pleasure, suffering;
my hope is turning to despair
yet love and lady-service kept
me happy as the sea a clam!
and since I've parted from my love
like one who's banished and exiled
all other life is death to me,
all other joys are desolate.

The flower of love has failed me now:
sweet fruit and grain and ear as well,
in which I joyed with pleasant speech
and I had honor and great praise,
and took my place among the great,
but from on high, I've fallen low:
It didn't seem a foolish fear,
no flame more quickly disappears.
That I'd have failed and been forlorn!
and lost in words and deeds alike
that day when desolation came
and nothing I could do would help.

Fine soldiers and good fighters too,
siege engines, catapults and pikes
and new walls broken and the old,
and battles won and towers gained
I see and hear of, but I don't
win anything to help in love!
and I go seeking, richly clad,
for wars and combat, jousting too,
and by the conquests I'm enriched,
but since the joy of love's denied
the world is not a garden now,
my songs no longer comfort me.

What good are wins and wealth to me?
for I considered I was rich
when I was loved and was a friend,
when riding with 'Sir Englishman'.
A little gesture pleased me more
than great worth and great lands do here,
and ever, as my power grows,
I've greater sadness deep within,
because my well-beloved 'Fair Knight'
and joy have gone and fled from me,
so no more comfort comes from her,
so sadness now grows large and strong.

But valor doesn't order me,
although I'm troubled and annoyed,
to give joy to my enemies
and lose my glory and my praise,
for I can still do harm and good
and change appearance, sad to glad
among the Latins and the Greeks.
The marquis who gave me the sword
is fighting Vlachs and Drogobites,
and never since the world began
have people done such feats as we
whom God has graciously set free.

The marquis is thereby raised up,
Count Henry and the Champenois,
Sicar, Methone, Salonica,
Constantinople, are relieved,
for these know how to hold the field
and this may easily be seen
for never yet did anyone
attain such glory, it appears.
By warriors, valiant, bold and brave
our empire has been carved out now,
and may God send us forces still
to bring our destiny about.

Not Alexander, Charlemagne,
or Louis led more glorious throng
nor could the valiant Aimeric
or Roland with his paladins
have conquered all the many folk
of such an empire by their might,
as we, so that our law is raised
and we've made emperors and dukes
and kings, and.garrisoned our forts
near tothe Turk and Arab lands,
and opened up the roads and ports
from Brindisi to Bosporus..

E1
Damascus will be overrun,
Jerusalem we'll conquer too,
and Syria's kingdom will be freed:
the Turks have found this in their books.

E2
Crusaders who would break their oaths,
deserters from our battlefield,
are wrongly taken in at courts
for they are worth less live than dead.

E3
Noble, bold, fair 'Englishman',
well-bred, distinguished, courtly friend,
you are the source of all my joys:
to live without you takes its toll.
'Fair Knight' and 'Englishman' were code-names for two of the poet's ladies.
Trans. Copyright © James H. Donalson 2003 







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