prosody | miscellaneous |
Anc ieu non l'aic mas elha m'a totz temps en son poder Amors e fai'm irat let, savi fol cum selhui qu'en re nos torna, c'om no's defend qui ben ama, qu'Amors comanda qu'om la serv'e la blanda: per qu'ieu n'aten sufren bona partida quan m'er escarida. Eu dic pauc q'ins el cor m'esta q'estar me fa temen paors; la lenga's feing mas lo cors vol so don dolen si sojorna: ie'n languis, mas no s'en clama qu'en tant a randa cum mars terra guaranda non a tan gen, prezen cum la cauzida qu'ieu ai encobida. Tant sai son pretz fin e certa per qu'ieu no'm puesc virar alhors; per so fatz ieu que'l cor m'en dol, can soleilz clau ni sojorna: eu non aus dir qui m'aflama; lo cor m'abranda e'ill uelh n'an la vianda, quar solamen vezen m'estai aizida. Ve'us que'm ten a vida! Fols es qui per parlar en va quer com sos jois sia dolors, que lauzengier, cui Deus afol, non an ges lengua adorna: l'us cosselh'e l'autre brama, per que's desmanda amors c'als fora granda; mas ieu'm defen fenhen de lor bruida e a em ses falhida. Pero jauzen me te e sa ab un plazer ab que m'a sors; mas mi no passara ja'l col per paor qui'l no'm fos morna, q'enquera'm sen de la flama d'Amor qui'm manda que mon cor non espanda: si fatz coven, temen, pus vei per crida manht'amor delida Maint bon chantar levet e pla n'agr'ieu plus fait si'm fes secors cil q'em dona joi e'l me tol, q'er sui letz er m'o trastorna, car a son vol me liama. Re no'il demanda mos cors ni no'ill fai guanda, mas franchamen li'm ren: donc, si m'oblida, Merces es perida. Mielz-de-ben ren, si't pren, chanzos grazida qu'Arnautz non oblida. |
I never held it but it holds me all the time in its bail, Love, and makes me glad in anger, fool in wisdom as one who never can fight back, because one who loves well cannot defend himself. 'cause love commands that men serve and soothe it: for which I expect, suffering, a good reward, whenever it is granted. I tell little of what's in my heart: fear makes me silent and scared; tongue hides but heart wants that on which, in pain, it broods so: I languish, but I do not complain because, as far as the sea embraces the earth there's none so kind, currently, as the chosen one for whom I long. I so know her value, certain and true, that I cannot turn elsewhere; I do so that my heart aches, when the sun sets and rests: I don't dare say who inflames me; my heart burns but my eyes are fed, because only seeing her has been left to me. You see what keeps me alive! Foolish is he who, for the sake of speech, turns his joy into pain, because slanderers, god curse them, never have a gilded tongue: one whispers, the other brays, and so withdraws a love that would be great; but I fight back, disguising, their blame and I love with no hesitation. That's why it keeps me happy and fine with a favour with which it has raised me; but it will never pass trough my throat, for fear that she gets gloomy, since I still feel the flame of Love, that orders me not to spread my mind: I swear it, frightened, because I've seen many a love deleted by its fame. Many a light and easy song I would have made, had she come to my help, the one who gifts me with joy and takes it away, 'cause now I'm glad and now she turns me: I am bound to her will. Nothing asks my heart, nor does it flee her, but, earnestly, I surrender to her: if she then forgets me, mercy is dead. Tell Better-Than-Good, if she takes you, gracious song, that Arnaut does not forget. |