prosody | miscellaneous |
S'ieu ar endevenia En far chanson plazen, Meravilla seria, Tan mi vai malamen. Voluntiers m'en sofrira De dire cossi·m vai Que no m'en descobrira; Mas l'amoros e·il gai Dirian: "E que fai? Meravillas n'avem tuich gran. Segon so qu'era gais antan, Cossi pot esser que non chan?" C'una dompna·i servia De bon cor lialmen, Tan qu'en bon pretz l'avia Poiad', era dissen. Con o poirai far d'ira? Car lei, cui servit ai De bon cor, o servira, Desam, car o forfai. Car atressi s'eschai Qu'ill aia blasme del engan, Cum pretz an cellas que ben fan. Pero iratz sui de son dan. Dirai n'una feunia, C'om iratz non a sen, Contra ma cortesia: Pero, car no m'es gen, Si pogues, la·n cobrira; Mas ja non l'amarai, Puois ill eissa s'azira. Sabetz cal conort n'ai, En que·m conortarai? Eu n'aic de bels plazers enan. Qu'ill agues mas un sol talan! Sa foudatz m'en fai dir aitan. Mi e·l bon pretz c'avia, A perdut veramen E·l ben c'om li dizia. Gardatz c'a mal l'en pren! Que qui la vi, ·s plevira Antan e mais en lai Que ja mais non faillira. Et ieu com o farai? Cossi m'en vengarai? Puois tan m'a faich mentir lauzan Que s'ie·n dic de mal atretan Aco·m sera plus malestan. A dompna taigneria Grans viutatz d'onramen E de faitz carestia. Tant can ten son joven, Vezer pot, quand se mira, Cum de beutat li vai; Pero si non cossira En valor, ill dechai, Car sa beutatz s'en vai Et ill reman ab pel ferran Dolenta, car a viscut tan Ab plus simple sen d'un enfan. Lausengador, deserenan Digatz so que·us er a talan, Qu'ieu no·i puosc aver pro ni dan. Enueios, mais ai de talan De trobar dompna ses enjan Que vos de prez, cui amaz tan! |
If I now managed to write a pleasant song it would be a marvel, so badly it goes for me. I would gladly endure to tell how it is going for it would not reveal me; but the loving and the joyous would say: "What does he do? We are all greatly astonished. Seen he was so happy before, how can it be that he doesn't sing?" For I was serving a lady wholeheartedly and loyally so well I had uplifted her good virtue, [which] now decays. How could I do this with sadness? Because her, whom I have served wholeheartedly, and will serve, I unlove, because she deserves it. For it is, anyway, fitting that she is blamed for the deceit the same way that those who do good earn virtue. But I am still sad that she comes to harm. I'd say an ill thing about her, for a saddened man has no consideration, against my [usual] courtesy: still, while she is not agreeable, if I could, I would cover her; but I'll never love her for it's her who hates herself. Do you know which consolation I have, with which I'll console myself? I have beautifully enjoyed her before. If she only had a single will! Such are the things her folly makes me say about her! She truly has lost me, and the good virtue she had, and the good [advice] one gave her. See how she's turned for the worse! For he who saw her last year and much before would have sworn that she would never fail. And what will I do, me? How will I take revenge on her? For she has made me lie, by praising, so much that if I talked ill of her as much it would be [even] more improper. What suits a lady is great honourable courtesy and parsimony of actions. As long as she keeps her youth she can see, whenever she looks at herself, how her beauty is doing; but if she doesn't care for valour, she spoils, for her beauty goes and she remains, with grey hair, regretful that she has lived so long being simpler than a child. Slanderers, now say all you wish for neither good nor bad can come of it to me. Meddlers, I care more to find a lady with no deceit, than you do for virtue, which you love so much! |