| LA DOUSA VOTZ AI AUZIDA ... | I HAVE HEARD THE SWEET VOICE SING ... |
| Bernart de Ventadorn | trans. James H. Donalson (from Provençal) |
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La dousa votz ai auzida del rosinholet sauvatge, et es m'ins cor salhida si que tot lo cosirer e·ls mals traihs qu'amors me dona, m'adousa e m'asazona; et auria·be mester l'autrui jois al meu damnatge. Ben es totz om d'avol vida c'ab joi non a son estatge e qui vas amor no guida so cor e so dezirer; car tot can es s'abandona vas joi e refrim' e sona: prat e deves e verger, landas e pla e boschatge. Eu, las! cui Amors oblida, que sui fors del dreih viatge, agra de joi ma partida, mas ira·m fai destorber; e no sai on me repona pus mo joi me desazona; e no·m tenhatz per leuger s'eu dic alcu vilanatge. Una fausa deschauzida träiritz de mal linhatge m'a träit (et es träida, e colh lo ram ab que·s fer); e can autre l'arazona, d'eus lo seu tort l'ochaizona; et an ne mais li derrer qu'eu que n'ai faih lonc badatge. Mout l'avia gen servida tro ac vas mi cor volatge; e pus ilh no m'es cobida, mout sui fols, si mais la ser. servirs c'om no gazardona, et esperansa bretona fai de senhor escuder per costum e per uzatge. Pois tan es vas me falhida, aisi lais so senhoratge, e no volh que·m si' aizida ni ja mais parlar no·n quer. mas pero qui m'en razona, la paraula m'en es bona, e m'en esjau volonter e·m n'alegre mo coratge. Deus li do mal' escharida qui porta mauvais mesatge, qu'eu agra amor jauzida, si no foso lauzenger. fols qui ab sidons tensona, qu'e·lh perdo s'ela·m perdona, e tuih cilh son mesonger que·m n'an faih dire folatge! E Lo vers mi porta, Corona, lai a midons a Narbona, que tuih sei faih son enter, c'om no·n pot dire folatge. |
I have heard the sweet voice sing of the timid nightingale, it's impressed upon my heart so that all the care and pain and mistreatment love can give he has sweetened and made mild, so to heal my pain I need joy that rises from outside. It's a bad life that one leads if there is no joy with him, or if he won't guide to love his desiring and his heart: all things that exist run free when chimes out joy's happy sound: meadow, hedgerow, garden, grove, heaths and. plains and woodland too. But if I forget to love I have surely lost my way: I may have my share of joy - sadness will disturb me still, and I don't know where to hide since joy's taken me away and don't think that I am bad if some base remark slips out. One who's false, with ill-intent, traitress of a mean descent, has betrayed me (and herself: cut the branch to beat her with!) then when someone questions her she excuses her mistake, and the worst are better off than am I, who've waited long. I served my lady very well till she thought my heart had changed and no longer took my side. It were foolish to go on and to serve without reward and with only Breton hope makes a knight into a squire both by custom and by use. Since she had withdrawn from me I departed from her rule. I don't want her to be near me, and I don't want to speak on, but when someone speaks of her all the talk seems good to me and enjoyment is renewed and within my heart I'm glad. May God give a bad reward to the bearer of bad news, I would have had joy of love if there were no slanderers. Only fools debate their ladies; I forgive if she forgives, and they're liars, one and all who've let me speak foolishness. E O Corona, take my verse to my lady in Narbonne, since her acts are all complete, no one may speak foolishness. |
Trans. Copyright © James H. Donalson 2004