| MON CHAN FENISC AB DOL ET ...............................AB MALTRAIRE ... |
MY SONG NOW ENDS WITH GRIEF ...................AND WITH MISFORTUNE ... | |
| attr. Bernart de Ventadorn, probably Guilhem de Sant Desdier |
trans. James H. Donalson (from Provençal) | |
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Per Crist, Amor, en gentil luoc cortes saupest assire tot mon cor e mon sen, per qu'ie·us o dei mais grazir lonjamen qu'ieu no·m cujara, esdevenir pogues: que la gensor m'aves fait abellir que si' el mon en fait ni en semblan tant es bella que hi conosc mon dan, c'ap sol l'enveya cre que'm n'er a murir. Ben sai del mon que, s'a chauzir agues, qu'ieu leis chauzira (si·s feran d'autres cen!) per qu'ieu am mais de leis lo lonc aten que de nuil' autra ren que far mi pogues. mais trop ai mes autamen mon dezir, per c'ai paor qu'ela·m torn en soan; mas ieu non puesc capdelar mon talan c'ades non vuelha lo miels del mont servir. Ric joi e car (e volgut e defes c'ab cortezia monta son pretz valen) ai ben trobat, qui que l'anes queren. e qui que l'aya, per mi non o dic ges, qu'ieu non l'aurai, ni no·m deu avenir. pero be sai que, si Deus m'ames tan que de s'amor agues ni tan ni can, sol que ren n'aia, sia·s el sieu chauzir. Qui'n ric amor met son cor e son pes, si tot li tarza, ric guizardon n'aten. qui ric seinhor pot servir lonjamen, si tot bistensa, pueissas leu pren merces. el loi pot mais en sol un jorn grazir e far honor, que cen paubr' en un an, per qu'ieu n'aten honor e joya gran, qu'en ric parage ai pauzat mon albir. Preguara la, si sol a leis plagues que·m consentis un celat parlamen, car s'ieu la vauc vezer tot a prezen, diran mesonjas maint envios plaides. et enaissi pot ben esdevenir enans del fag, on cascuns a pueis dan; e si fossan acordat des aban, abdui se pogran ab mens de bruit jauzir. D'una ren fan domnas gran mesies: c'ab lonc enquerre fan lur joi conoissen. cant hom las pregua, et ilh n'auran talen, et es vejaire c'an ben lur amor mes, per que·n fan plus de paraulas auzir? car asatz son saubut li devinan, que·n diran mais gran ren qu'elas non fan, que per enveya an fait mant joi partir. E Chansoneta, vai·m a mon Bertran dir que·l prec que·t fassa al sieu Bertran auzir. |
By heaven, Love, in a soft and courtly spot, you took hold of my spirit and my sense; so that I should give thanks at greater length, I'd not have thought that I'd become this way, for I have pleased the noblest one of all the world, in fact or in appearances she's such a beauty that my harm is this: from my desire alone, I think I'll die. I know the world enough that if I chose I'd choose her (rather than a hundred more!) I love her so, that I can wait for long which I can't do for any other thing but I have placed too highly my desire, so I'm afraid she'll turn from me in scorn, but I can not control my heart's desire, or·turn from service to the best of all, Dear, noble joy (wished for and justified, with courtliness its value is increased) I've found what I was always looking for: whoever has it, I won't contradict; and having none, when it won't come to me, and yet I know, if God did not love me, I wouldn't have much love - or none at all, but nothing can exist, save of his choice. Whoever sets his heart on noble love, though it's delayed, a rich reward awaits; a noble lord may serve for a long time, though quickly blamed forgiveness quickly comes. And he can have more things in just one day than can a hundred poor men in a year, and I attain, great power and great joy, because in noble lines I rest my thought. I'd ask her if she only would be pleased to let me have a secret talk with her; for if I go to see her publicly the envious will have their lies to tell but even so, much good can come of this before the fact, but after, all are harmed, and if, beforehand, they agreed on this, at least the two could have a little fun. The ladies get much input out of naught: with much inquiry, they'll reveal their joy when they are asked, and they won't be inclined. It vexes when they've sent their love away, so why wish to hear words about it now? They've learned enough about all these events and tell of grief for things that they don't do, and by their envy scattered many a joy. E Now, little Song, go say to my Bertrand I ask to have it heard by his Bertrand. |
Trans. Copyright © James H. Donalson 2005