| BE M'AN PERDUT LAI ENVERS VENTADORN ... |
MY FRIENDS IN VENTADOUR ARE DROPPING ME ... |
| Bernart de Ventadorn | trans. James H. Donalson (from Provençal) |
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Be m'an perdut lai envers Ventadorn tuih mei amic, pois ma domna no m'ama; et es be dreihtz que ja mais lai no torn, c'ades estai vas me salvatj' e grama. ve·us per que·m fai semblan irat e morn: car en s'amor me deleih e·m sojorn! ni de ren als no·s rancura ni·s clama. Aissi co·l peis qui s'eslaiss' el cadorn e no·n sap mot, tro que s'es pres en l'ama, m'eslaissei eu vas trop amar un jorn, c'anc no·m gardei, tro fui en mei la flama, que m'art plus fort, no·m feira focs de forn; e ges per so no·m posc partir un dorn, aissi·m te pres s'amors e m'aliama. No·m meravilh si s'amors me te pres, que genser cors no crei qu'el mon se mire: bels e blancs es, e frescs e gais e les e totz aitals com eu volh e dezire. no posc dir mal de leis, que non i es; qu'e·l n'agra dih de joi, s'eu li saubes; mas no li sai, per so m'en lais de dire. Totz tems volrai sa onor e sos bes e·lh serai om et amics e servire, e l'amarai, be li plass' o be·lh pes, c'om no pot cor destrenher ses aucire. no sai domna, volgues o no volgues, si·m volia, c'amar no la pogues. mas totas res pot om en mal escrire. A las autras sui oimais eschazutz; la cals se vol, me pot vas se atraire, per tal cove que no·m sia vendutz l'onors ni·l bes que m'a en cor a faire; qu'enoyos es preyars, pos er perdutz, per me·us o dic, que mals m'en es vengutz, car trait m'a la bela de mal aire. En Proensa tramet jois e salutz e mais de bes c'om no lor sap retraire; e fatz esfortz, miracles e vertutz, car eu for man de so don non ai gaire, qu'eu non ai joi, mas tan can m'en adutz mos Bels Vezers e'n Fachura, mos drutz, e'n Alvernhatz, lo senher de Belcaire. E Mos Bels Vezers, per vos fai Deus vertutz tals c'om no·us ve que no si' ereubutz dels bels plazers que sabetz dir e faire. |
My friends in Ventadour are dropping me because my lady has stopped loving me: It is my right not to return again, for there are hard and evil thoughts of me. Look at the face of anger she puts on: for in her love I dwell and I delight, there's nothing else to mourn or to regret. I'm like the fish that quickly takes the bait suspecting nothing till he's firmly hooked. I hurried into heated love one day too careless till I was amidst the flame that burned me more than oven-fires would do: and I can't move away, not by an inch, her love so tightly holds and fetters me. I'm not surprised her love can hold me fast, her body's the most charming in the world, it's fair and white and smooth and glad, and all that I could wish for or desire. I can't say bad things, nothing's bad in her. I would have spoken ill, if ill I'd known, but I knew none, and so I held my tongue. I always want her honor and her good: I'll be her man and friend and I will serve and I will love her if she likes or not. You can't restrain a heart unless you kill. I know no lady (if she like or not) that, if I wanted to, I couldn't love, but everything can be ill-written of. As for the others, I'll come down for them and those who wish can draw me to them now provided that the price won't be too high for paying honors and for good intent. It's bothersome to beg, if it's in vain, I'll tell you this, that evil comes to me, because my beauty has betrayed me so. To Provence, send my joyous greetings now, and more good things I don't know how to say, and I will work great miracles and powers; to start with, I can send what I don't have: I have no joy but what is brought me by my 'Belvedere' and 'Charmer' (special friend), and 'Auvergnat' the master of Beaucaire. E My 'Belvedere', God works his power by you, so no one, seeing you, can fail to speak of all the pleasures that you tell or do. |
Trans. Copyright © James H. Donalson 2004