Main PageTroubadours' ListingMore Works by Cercamon

The prosody guide is available as a book. Click here for details.

Ab lo pascor m'es bel qu'eu chan
En estiu, a l'entran de mai,
Can par la flors sobre·l verjan,
E son reverdezit li glai;
Mout mi val pauc lo temps cortes,
Q'eu non ai joi ni non l'ades,
Ni de sa compagnia no·m lau,

Per qe d'amor an atretan
Li malvas enojos savai
Com li meillor e·l plus prezan.
Jovens s'en fuig, fraing e dechai,
E Malvestatz a son luec pres
En amistat, c'amics non es
Amatz ni d'amigua no·s jau.

Ben sai qe lor es mal estan
Als moilleratz car se fan gai
Domnejador ni drudejan,
E·l guizardo qe lor n'eschai
Ditz el reprovier lo pajes :
Q'a glazi fer a glazi es
Feritz d'eis lo seu colp mortau.

Fals amador, al meu semblan,
Vostr'er lo danz e no·n pueis mai;
De gran folor es acordan
Can l'us l'autre gali'e trai;
E pos vos o aves enqes,
Drut, moiller e marit, tug tres,
Sias del pechat comunau.

El fuec major seretz creman
En la pena qe non trasvai,
Enganador fals e truan,
Al juzizi del derrer plai,
On sera totz lo mals e·l bes
Jutjatz; e no clam ja merces
Domna c'aja drut desleiau.

Non a valor d'aissi enan
Cela c'ab dos ni ab tres jai;
Et ai n'enqer lo cor tristan,
Qe dieus tan falsa no·n fetz sai;
Miels li fora ja non nasqes
Enans qe'l failliment fezes
Don er parlat tro en peitau.

Saint Salvaire, fai m'albergan
Lai el renh on mi donz estai,
Ab la genzor, si q'en baizan
Sien nostre coven verai
E qe·m do zo que m'a promes;
Pueis al jorn s'en ira conques,
Si be l'es mal al gelos brau.

Amics, diguas li·m, can la ves,
Si passa·l terme q'avem pres,
Q'ieu soi mortz, per sain Nicolau!

At Easter-time I find it nice to sing,
in the Summer, in the beginning of May,
when the flower appears over the meadow
and the gladioli turn green again;
but little avails me the courteous season,
for neither have I joy nor do I attain it,
nor can I boast its company.

For love gives the same
to the evil, annoying and uncouth
as it gives the best and worthiest.
Youth is routed, broken and abated,
and Malice has taken its place
in amity, for the friend is not
loved, nor does he enjoy his [girl]friend.

I well know that it displeases
married men to act as gallant
suitors and lovers,
and the reward they miss
is described by the peasant in the adage
"He who wounds with dagger is himsef wounded
by dagger, with the same fatal blow".

False lovers, it seems to me
that you take the harm, and that I can't add to it (?);
you are as one in your great folly
when you deceive and betray each other;
and since you've asked for it,
lovers, women and husbands, may you all
three [groups] partake of the same sin.

You shall be burnt in the great fire,
in never-ending punishment,
deceivers, false and treacherous,
at the judgement of the last trial,
where all the good and evil shall be
judged; and may a lady not claim mercy,
[just because her] lover is unfaithful.

She isn't worth anything, that day,
who sleeps with two or three;
and my heart grieves still
that god put here such a false woman;
she would have been better off not being born at all
rather than committing that fault
of which people talk all the way to Poitiers.

Saint Saviour, do shelter me,
there in the realm where my lady dwells,
with the noblest woman so that, by kissing,
our compact may be sealed
and she may give me what she has promised me;
then, that day, she'll go away conquered,
however grievous the uncouth jealous may find it.

Friend, tell her, when you see her,
that if she lets the term we have set pass,
I am dead, by Saint Nicholas!