povencan

CAN VEI LA LAUZETA ...........................MOVER ...	WHEN I SEE THE LARK ........................RISING UP ...
Bernart de Ventadorn	trans. A.S.Kline (from Provençal)
Can vei la lauzeta mover de joi sas alas contral rai, que s'oblida e·s laissa cazer per la doussor qu'al cor li vai, ai! tan grans enveia m'en ve de cui qu'eu veya jauzion! meravilhas ai, quar desse lo cor de dezirier no·m fon. Ai las! tan cuyava saber d'amor, e ten petit en sai! quar eu d'amar no·m puesc tener celieys don ia pro non aurai; tout m'a mon cor e tout m'a me e se mezeis' et tot lo mon, e quan si·m tolc, no·m laisset re mas dezirier e cor volon. Anc non agui de me poder ni no fui mieus de lor'en sai que·m laisset en sos huelhs vezer en un miralh que mot mi plai. mirals, pus me mirei en te, m'an mort li sospir de preon, qu'aissi·m perdei cum perdet se lo bels Narcisus en la fon. De las donas mi dezesper; ia mais en lor no·m fiarai; qu'aissi cum las suelh captener, enaissi las descaptendrai. pus vei qu'una pro no m'en te ves lieis que·m destrui e·m cofon, totas las dopt' e las mescre, quar be sai qu'autretals se son. D'aisos fa be femna parer ma dona, per qu'ieu·l o retrai, quar non vol so qu'om deu voler, e so qu'om li deveda, fai. cazutz sui en mala merce, et ai ben fait co·l fols en pon, e no sai per que m'esdeve, mas quar trop pogei contra mon. Merces es perduda per ver, (et ieu non o saubi anc mai), quar cil qui plus en degr'aver, no·n a ges; et on la querrai? al quan mal sembla, qui la ve, qued aquest caitiu deziron, que is ses leis non aura be, laisse morir, que no l'aon! Pus ab midons no·m pot valer precs ni merces ni·l dregz qu'ieu ai, ni a leis no ven a plazer qu'ieu l'am, ia mais no·l o dirai; aissi·m part de lieis e·m recre; mort m'a, e per mort li respon, e vau m·en, pus ilh no·m rete, caitius, en issilh, no sai on. Tristans, ges no·n auretz de me, qu'ieu m'en vau, caitius, no sai on. de chantar mi gic e·m recre, e de joi e d'amor m'escon.	When I see the lark display His wings with joy against the day, Forgetting, fold then fall away, As sweetness to his heart makes way, Such great envy then invades My mind: I see the rest take fire, And marvel at it, for no way Can my heart turn from its desire. Ah, I so dearly wished to know Of love, yet so little learn, For I cannot keep from loving her Who will not have me, though I burn. She stole my heart, and all of me, And she herself, and worlds apart; Lacking herself, now nothing’s left But longing and the willing heart. For ‘I’ has no power over ‘I’ Nor has had since the day I know I let myself gaze in her eye, The mirror that pleased me so. Mirror, now I’m mirrored in you, Profound sighs are killing me, I lost myself as he did too Narcissus gazing in the deep. Of every lady I despair! And in them I can place no trust! Those I once would seek to cheer Leave them cheerless now I must. Seeing her then who won’t have me, She who destroys me and confounds, I doubt them all and can’t believe, Knowing them other than they’re found. My lady shows herself, not to my good, A woman indeed, scorns my behest, Since she wishes not what she should But what’s forbidden her finds best. Now I’m fallen from all grace, I’ve done well on the asses’ bridge! And don’t know why I’m in disgrace, Except I’ve asked a world too much. Mercy’s lost, and gone from sight And now I can retrieve it not. Since she who owns to it of right Has none to give, and where’s it sought? How little it seems to those who see - What would she want with me poor wretch? - That without her nothing’s here for me, She lets me die who’ve no help left. Since with my lady there’s no use In prayers, her pity, or pleading law, Nor is she pleased at the news I love her: then I’ll say no more, And so depart and swear it’s done! I’m dead: by death I’ll answer her, And off I’ll go: she’ll see me gone, To wretched exile, who knows where? Tristram, none will hear of me: Off I’ll go, who knows where? I’ll sing no more, resigned I’ll be, And banish joy and love of her.

Note: Pound adapts and utilises phrases from verse 1, ‘qual cor mi vai: that goes to my heart’ at the start of
Canto XCI; ‘es laissa cader: lets fall’ and ‘de joi sas alas: with joy, its wings’ in Notes for Canto CXVII et seq.