| prosody | miscellaneous |
Ben sai c'a sels seria fèr Que·m blasmon qar tan soven chan Si lor costavon mei chantar. Meils m'estai Pos leis plai Que·m te jai Qu'ieu no chant mia per aver: Qu'ieu n'enten en autre plazer. E per als m'en cug plus anquèr: Quar tan soven com en chantan No la puesc auzen totz nomnar. E pueis ai Tan gran jai Quan quex brai So qu'ieu dic, c'adonx cug tener Dieu, o lieis don me volh temer. Bo·m sap qi de midonz m'enquièr, Q'ieu no i faz ges feignien semblan; E creis m'en gaugz cant n'aug parlar; Neus de lai On no·s fai Noms, me trai Qant diretz de lieis tal plazer – Cossi·us n'era datz grans aver. Gran esfort fai Dieus, qar sofèr C'ab si no la'npueja baizan! Mas no·m vol tolre ni tort far; Ni s'eschai Qu'en esmai For'ieu sai. Mas lieis no pren, no·m cal temer Que ja autr'ill plassa tener. Si ben en amar leis m'esmèr, Qu'ieu sai, que si pel mon s'espan, C'autras m'en faran faiturar. Don m'esglai: Qu'en farai? Cobrirai Donx mon gran ben ab jauzen ver? Oc! Si n'era mieus lo poder. Mas tostems fo e tostems èr Que grans amors no te guaran. Grans meravillas son d'amar! Que·n dirai S'amors chai Qar van bai? Ai las! Ja no m'o lais vezer Sel Dieus que·m n'a datz jauzen ser! C'aisi tiron ves man esquèr Sill ric que plus cortes se fan C'ades ponhon en lauzenjar; E·ill verai Son en plai, Quar, i a trai, Sel c'a semblan sen ferm poder Par cortes, si nonca s'es ver. Dona, vostre domini sèr Crezetz me, qu'ie·us am ses engan, E membre·us plus que l'encuzar Li dous bai... Ar morrai! Si dic mai! Ai co·m fail quan pes del dous ser Lo sens e l'auzir e·l vezer! Quan la candela·m fetz vezer Vos baizan rizen, a! Cal ser! Joglar, ades mati e ser Me tira·l cors vostre vezer. |
I know well that it would be hard on those who blame me because I sing so often if my songs cost them money. This suits me better, for it pleases her who keeps me merry that I do not sing for wealth, that I engage in a different pleasure. I rather worry about something else: for I cannot name her when all listen as often as I sing. And since I have such great joy when somebody cries out what I say, I feel as if I possessed god, or her about whom I wish to hide my thoughts. He who asks me about my lady pleases me, for I don't disguise, in that case, my expression; and when I hear about her, my joy increases; even when one doesn't mention the name, all one may say about her brings me as much pleasure as if one were given great wealth. God shows great fortitude, for he refrains from raising her to himself to kiss her! But he doesn't want to take her away from me, nor to wrong me; not it is fitting that I be, down here in dismay. Since he doesn't take her, there's no ground to worry that it'd please him to keep another woman. I so perfect myself in loving her that I know, that if it is known around, other women will use charms on me. For which reason I worry: what shall I do? Shall I hide, then, my great good with its happy truth? Yes! If the power to do so be mine. But it ever was and ever shall it be that great love knows no constraints. Wondrous things come of love! What shall I say if love declines when kisses are gone? Alas, may god, who has given me a happy evening, never let me see that moment! Those parvenus who fancy themselves courteous pull so much towards the left hand [sic] that they have now taken to slandering; and the true ones are at stake because, for a while, those who have appearance without fundament, seem courteous, although they truly aren't. Lady, believe me, your feudal serf, for I love you without deception, and remember, more than the allegations, the sweet kiss... Now shall I die if I say more! Oh! how do they fail me, when I think of that sweet evening, my sense, my hearing and my sight! When the candle made me see you, kissing and laughing, Oh! What an evening! Joglar, my heart pushes me to see you morning, noon and night. |