| SI·M FOS AMORS DE JOI DONAR TANT LARGA ... | IF LOVE WERE BOUNTIFUL IN GIVING JOY ... |
| Arnaut Daniel | trans. James H. Donalson (from Provençal) |
|
Si·m fos Amors de joi donar tant larga, com ieu sui lieis d'aver fin cor e franc, ja de mos jorns no·m calgra far embarc; qu'er am tant qu'espers me pueg e·m pomba, e quand m'albir cum es de pretz al som mout m'en am mais quar anc l'auzei voler, qu'eras sai ieu que mos cors e mos sens me farant far, lur grat, rica conquesta. Pero s'ieu fatz long esper no·m embarga, qu'en tant ric luoc me sui mes e m'estanc c'ab sos bels digs mi tenon de joi larc e segrai tant qu'om me port a la tomba, qu'ieu no sui ges celh que lais aur per plomb; e pois en lieis no·s tainh c'om ren esmer, tant li serai fis e obediens tro de s'amor s·il platz, baisan m'envesta. Us bons respieitz mi reven e·m descarga dels greus sospirs don mi dolon li flanc quar en patz prenc l'afan e·l sufr' e·l parc pois de beutat son las autras en comba, que la genser par qu'aia pres un tom plus bas de lieis, qui la vei, e es ver; quar tuit bom aip, pretz e sabers e sens reinhnon de lieis qu'us non es meinhs ni·n resta. E pois tant val no·us cujatz que s'esparga mos deziriers, ni que·is forc ni s'esbranc; no serai sieus ni mieus si ja m'en parc si m'aiut celh que's mostret en colomba, qu'en tot lo mon non ha hom de nuilh nom tant desires gran benananza aver cum ieu fatz lieise tenc m'en nonchalens pels devinans cui dans del drutz es festa. Fals lauzenaiers, fuocs las lenguas vos arga, e que perdatz ams los huelhs de mal cranc, que per vos son estrag cavailh e marc: qu'Amor baissatz, qu'a pauc del tot non tomba; confonda·us Dieus! e sai vos dire com, que·us fatz als drutz maldir' e viltener; malastres es qu'us ten, desconoissens que piegers es qui plus vos amonesta. Na Mielhs-de-ben, ja no·m siatz avarga, qu'en vostr' amor me trobaretz tot blanc, qu'ieu non ai cor ni poder que·m descarc del ferm voler que non es de retomba; que quan m'esveilh ni clau los hueilhs de som vostre remanc, quan leu ni vau jazer; e no·us cujatz que·is merme mos talens; non fara jesqu'ara·l sent en la testa. Arnautz a faitz e fara loncs atens, qu'atenden fai pros hom rica conquesta. |
If Love were bountiful in giving joy as I to her with my sincerest heart I wouldn't mind my run of weary days; My love is high, but Love will lift me up and when I think how much she's worth at last, so much I love I dare to love her still, since now I know my heart and feelings too will let me conquer her thanks but to them. And I don't care if I must wait for long because I have and hold a place so rich and her fair words keep me enriched with joy and I'll go on until I reach the grave; since I'm not one to leave my gold for lead and since there's nothing in her to improve, I'll be her servant, and obedient, until, by kissing, she clothes me in love. A happy pause returns, relieving me of heavy sighs that come to hurt my thighs; in peace I get the pain and suffer it for beauty, others dropped in a ravine because the fairest all have had a fall below her, and if one sees her, it's true since she has all good virtues: knowledge, sense, all reign in her and nothing is left out. Since she's so precious, do you think that my desire will fade or split or waste away? I won't be hers or mine if I leave her: may he help me, who showed him as a dove! in all the world there's no one of renown to wish so strongly for the greatest good as I with her, but I'm uneasy with the wizards who delight in lovers' harm. False witnesses, may fire devour your tongues and may you lose both eyes to maladies: both horse and mare are lost because of you who put love down so that it nearly falls: may God confound you! And I'll tell you why - because a lover must despise you so; an evil star must keep you ignorant: the more you're pounded on, the worse you get. My Lady Bet-than-good, don't treat me so, you'll find me, white-haired, still in love with you: I haven't heart nor strength to set me free for my determination's not of glass, and when I wake or close my eyes to sleep, I'm still yours when I rise or go to bed, and don't think it'll bring my longing down it won't! I feel it now, up in my head. Arnaut has waited, and will wait for long, since, waiting, wise men richly reach their goals. |
Trans. Copyright © James H. Donalson 2003