Main PageTroubadours' ListingMore Works by Guilhen de Peiteu

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

Ab la douzor del temps novel
Fueillon li bosc, e li auzel
Chanton chascus en lor lati,
Segon lo vers del novel chan:
Adonc esta ben q'on s'aizi
De zo dont hom a plus talan.

De lai don plus m'es bon e bel
No-m ve messatger ni sagel,
Don mon cors non dorm ni non ri
Ni no m'en auz traire enan,
Tro que eu sapcha ben de la fi,
S'el es aissi com eu deman.

La nostr'amor va enaissi
Com la brancha de l'albespi
Qu'estai sobre l'arbre tremblan,
La noig, ab la ploi' e al gel,
Tro l'endeman, qe-l sols s'espan
Per la fueilla vert el ramel.

Anquar me membra d'un mati
Que nos fezem de guerra fi
E que-m donet un don tan gran,
Sa drudari'e son anel:
Anquar me lais Dieus viure tan
Qu'aia mas manz sotz son mantel!

Qu'ieu non ai soing d'estraing lati
Qe-m parta de mon Bon Vezi,
Q'ieu sai de paraulas com van,
Ab un breu sermon qi s'espel:
Que tal se van d'amor gaban;
Nos n'avem la pess'e-l coutel.

For the sweetness of springtime,
the woods leaf and the birds
sing, each in its own language,
according to the swing of the new song:
it is therefore right that one tends towards
what he desires most.

From the place I like and love
comes neither messenger nor missive;
because of this, I neither sleep nor laugh;
and I don't dare come forward
until I know with certitude
whether things stand as I want them to.

Our love works
just as the hawthorn twig
which stands shaking on the tree
in the night, in the rain and in the frost
until the morning after, when the sun stretches
on the green leaf and on the branches.

I still remember a morning
when we ended a fight
and when she gave such an important gift,
her love and her ring:
god let me live long enough
to put my hands under her cape.

I don't worry that a strange language
would part me from my Good Neighbour,
because I know the wandering ways of words:
they begin as idle chat:
some people brag about love matters,
we have the matter in hand.