SENHER EN COMS, A BLASMAR ... MY LORD SIR COUNT, YOU ARE
TO BLAME ...
Bertrans de Born trans. James H. Donalson
(from Provençal)
Senher en coms, a blasmar
Vos faitz senes falhia
Quar noi ausetz anar,
Pois ela o volia,
A la domna parlar,
E al for de Catalonha
Al vostre ops eu n'ai vergonha,
Quar lai fezetz fadiar.

E fis drutz no·s deu tardar,
Si messatge·lh venia,
Mas que pens de l'anar
E que·s meta en la via,
Qu'om no sap son afar
De si donz ni sa besonha:
Be leu a talen que jonha,
Per que no·is deu aturar.

E quan vitz vostre joglar
Que de ves leis venia,
Ja no·us degratz restar,
Qui·us dones Normandia,
S'acsetz ben cor d'anar,
Anc Ribairac e Dordonha
De regart no·us dera sonha,
Ni ja no·us degra membrar.

Mas aras podetz proar
S'es ver so qu'eu dizia,
Que no fa, ad amar
Rics om per drudaria:
Tant an a cossirar
Per que·l jois d'amor los lonha,
Qu'eu no volh aver Bergonha
Sens temer e sens celar;

Qu'eu ja no volh esser bar
Ni de gran manentia
per que·m pogues reptar
Nuls om de vilania;
Mais an rire e gabar
Ab mi donz que m'en somonha,
Qu'eu no volria Gasconha
Ni Bretanha chapdelar.

Mon chan vir ves n'Ademar,
Qui s'onor e·us abria,
Cui nostre Senher car
Sa paucha Lombardia:
Tan gen sap domnejar
Que no·s chanja ni s'embronha
Per menassas, anz ressonha
Lemoges faire serar.

E
Si·l com Jaufres no s'eslonha,
Peitau aura e Gasconha,
Sitot no sap domnejar.
 My Lord Sir Count, you are to blame
for actions, and there's no mistake:
because you didn!t dare to go
because your lady wanted you
to talk, when she invited you
and as is use with Catalans
I am ashamed on your account
because you made her wait in vain.

Fine lovers mustn't ever wait
if messages come through to them:
they must make ready right away
and put themselves upon the road,
because one doesn't know the cause
or what one's lady's wants may be.
It may be she wants to break up,
so one must hurry, right away.

And when you saw your minstrel boy
was coming from your lady's place
you should not have delayed at all:
not if they'd give you Normandy.
If you'd made up your mind to go
you wouldn't think a danger lay
from Riberac down to Dordogne,
and do not think about it now.

But now you can prove that it's true:
the things that I've been telling you,
no powerful man deserves to be
loved by the art of courtly love:
he has so much to ponder on
that joy of love just stays away.
I wouldn't want all Burgundy
without love's fear and secrecy.

I wouldn't want to be a lord
or be a person of great wealth
just so that I could be accused
of churlishness by anyone;
I'd rather laugh and tell some jokes
then, when my lady summons me,
than own the land of Gascony
or rule the land of Brittany.

I aim my song at Sir Aimar:
let honor open it to him,
and may our dear Lord save him then
and all his little Lombardy,
for he can gently dominate,
not losing his composure now
by menaces, but rather, dreams
of clutching Limoges firmer still.

E
And if Count Geoffrey doesn't leave
he'll get Poitou and Gascony
though he can't court the ladies.
Trans. Copyright © James H. Donalson 2005 







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