The Democratic Republic of Poetry
Raimbaut d'AurengaTroubadoursProsodyNoveltiesAnamorphisms

Joglar, fe qed eu dei
A Dieu ni a ma donna ni a mei,
Qauzutz son en esfrei
Q'ar mais ancor non vei
Lieis a cui totz m'autrei
Per ar e per totz tems.

E serem mais ensems,
Eu sai, q'o tol ma domna. Qar trop tems?
L'un oil me·n fus redems
Q'eu non temes t'estrems;
Sol vos - se·n era sems -
Meins no m·en presasetz.

C'anc fams, ni sons, ni setz
No·m destreis tan, uns ni tuig millia vetz,
Com fai sos talans fretz.
Q'en breu de vent m'abretz
Car vos non vei, cui letz
De sofrir mon perill.

A! Domn'ap cor volpill,
Gran paor ai qe·il bocha me rovill
Q'ar del col tro al cill
No·us bais, qui qe·n grondill;
Q'eu n'iria en eissill
Enanz c'autra·m baizes.

E com morrai ades!
Si·m cocha·l bes q'eu n'aic! q'el luec tornes!
A, domna·l plus confes
Ome qez anc ames
Acorres, si que pres
De vos sia mos cors!

Ai! Talens, car no mors?
E Seignier Dieus, gitasses lo tost fors!
O q'il sembles ma sors
A cel qe sabo·l destors,
Si qe nostre demors
Fos per totz acuillitz!

Domna, no·m faz marritz
Per qe·m tegna de vos per eschernitz;
Mas qar lur fals critz
Dels enojos traïtz
Tem, e tant son eissitz
Del bon sen c'aver soill.

Per l'espavent mi doill
E pel gran be, qu'avant n'ai fait orgoill,
Si q'ieu non deing mon oill
Girar ves autre foill,
Qar mos cors no m'acoill
Q'ieu ves vos mi renei.

Domna, si lai on soill
No·us vei en breu·m renei.

Far me·n podes orgoill:
Q'ans morrai qe·m renei!

Joglar, by the faith I owe
god, my lady and myself,
I have lapsed into terror,
for I do not see anymore
her to whom I wholly surrender
now and forever.

And I know that we shall never
be together, for my lady forbids it. Why do you fear so much?
An eye would be my ransom
no to fear you'd leave me;
if only you wouldn't esteem
me less if I were deprived of it.

Not even hunger, nor sleeplessness nor thirst
– one alone or a thousand together – have ever distressed me as much
as does her cold attitude.
For I shall soon be blowing in the wind
because of not seeing you, to whom it behoves
to allay my suffering.

Ah! Lady of timid heart,
I greatly fear my mouth may rust
if I don't kiss you from the throat
to the brow, whoever might grumble;
I'd go away in exile
before letting another woman kiss me.

And how soon shall I die!
The good fortune I had of her torments me so! Let it return to its [former] place!
Ah, lady, succour the most
abject man ever to
have loved, so that my body
may be close to yours!

Alas, desire, why don't you die?
And, lord god, cast it quickly forth!
Else, may she look like my sister
to those who know the obstacle,
so that our merriment
would be accepted by all.

Lady, I don't pretend to be sad
in order to be scorned by you
but because I dread the false rumours
of the insidious betrayers:
to such extent have I parted
from my usual common sense.

I grieve because of the fear
and of the great good that was formerly my pride,
so that I care not to turn
my eye elsewhere,
for my heart does not accept
that I give you up.

Lady, if I don't see you soon
in the usual place, I'll give you up.

You can pride yourself on this:
I'd die before giving you up.