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Mentre per una ribiera
sols anava, deportan,
vi de luenh gaya porquiera,
un tropel de porcz gardan;
sopdamen per una rega
aniey vas liey d'un garatg.
Et hac son cor fer e lag,
escur e negre cum pegua;
grossa fo coma tonela,
et hac cascuna mamela
tan gran que semblet Engleza.
Yeu, que la vi malsabeza
cazec mi tota la brassa.

Ela 'stec coma fadassa,
et yeu disshi·l: "Na corteza,
bela res e gent apreza,
digatz me si n'etz priucela".
En est mieg, jos sa gonela,
se grata fortmen e brega
lo sieu corcegas mal fag:
si·l pans no fos del gannag,
paregra·l tota la plega!
E respondet entertan,
am boaral votz grociera:
"Hom per que·m vas enujan?
Sec, de par Dieu, ta cariera!".

"Toza, fi·m ieu, plazentiera,
per vos hai trag gran afan,
per que·us prec que volontiera
me digatz so que·us deman".
"Senher, per fugir a brega,
e per gandir a mal plag,
mas que no·m sia retrag,
dir vos o vuelh, sol que·m lega:
maritz ni 'spos no·m capdela,
ni lunh temps planca ni cela
no fuy d'ome, ni sosmeza".
"Huey seretz, toza, repreza,
quar yeu say be qui·us abrassa".

"Del boyer no·n blasmatz, lassa!
Quar jos terra fora meza,
gran temps ha, mas la gayeza
de lui. Tan be caramela,
m'esgauzish e·m renovela!
Non es jorn qu'ab mi no bega
a pot de barril, a rag,
e ses lunh avol assag,
qu'entre nos ges no s'emplega".
"Porquiera, segon semblan,
vos l'amatz d'amor entiera?"
"O, yeu, mais que porcz aglan,
ni cauls trueja porceliera!"

"Sor, tant etz bela parliera
que totz m'anatz traforan.
Prec vos qu'en cela falguiera
anem amdos deportan,
ans que mos languimens crega".
"Senher, no crey d'aquest mag
me vejatz en aquel trag!
Mal boissi fai qui·s nofega!"
"Quar pauc val, fi·m ieu, sor bela,
fivelos senes fivela,
valha·m le vostra franqueza".
"Far me faretz gran fadeza,
bels senher, quar vos am massa".

Soptamen ab mi·s la passa
qu'a pauc no·m fe gran fereza.
"Sor, pus tant sabetz de preza,
anem tendre la trapela
la jos en l'erba noela".
Las faudas se reversega
per miels anar ses empag,
e menam de jos un fag,
et aqui tost ela·s plega.
"De la part, fi·m ieu, denan,
etz, toza, trop prezentiera,
per que no·m veyretz d'ogan
passar per vostra naviera".

"Quar me vezetz solaciera,
senher, vos pessatz engan;
e vuelh mais que lams me fiera
qu'ieu falhimen fes tan gran".
Son cami pren e tezega;
va's en ab son gonel frag:
ampla fo que semblet mag!
Mas al pas d'un riu lenega,
tan prozamen s'en capdela,
que tal colp de la maysselha
det qu'es aqui s'es esteza.
Yeu que vi la gran apteza,
laysshe li tota la plassa.

Flors Humils, no si deslassa
de vos purtatz ni beleza,
e quar etz flors de nobleza,
me dicta·l cor e·m martela
qu'es fols qui de vos s'apela.

While walking along a shore,
alone, on a bummel,
I saw a mirthful swineherd,
who was watching a herd of pigs;
I went towards her right away,
following the ridge of a fallow.
With her ugly, repulsive body,
swarthy, black like tar
and as fat as a barrel,
each of her breasts
was so large that she looked like an English woman.
Upon seeing her so disgusting,
I was taken aback.

She stayed there dumbly,
and I told her: "Gracious lady,
beautiful thing, and courteously learned,
tell me whether you are a maiden".
In the meanwhile, under her skirt,
she scratches and rubs with vigour
her misshapen tub of a body:
and, hadn't the rim of the skirt been there,
all her slit would have been visible!
She then answered,
with a bellowing, hoarse voice:
"Man, what do you want from me?
Get lost, for god's sake!"

"Lovely girl", I resumed,
"I have suffered much for your sake,
and therefore I endear you to tell me
willingly what I ask you".
"Sir, in order to avoid an argument
and to escape a dispute,
on condition that it isn't blamed on me,
I will tell you this, as much as I can:
no husband nor spouse rules over me,
nor was I ever submitted to a man,
nor was I his table or saddle".
"Today, girl, you shall be caught red-handed,
since I well know who embraces you".

"Don't blame me for the cattleman, poor me!
for I would have been interred
long ago, without his
cheerfulness! He plays his flute so well
he makes me rejoice and renews me!
There doesn't pass a day he doesn't drink with me
from the barrel's bottom, with his mouth,
without trying anything dishonourable,
which between us just doesn't happen."
"Swineherd, apparently,
you love him of perfect love?".
"Oh yes, more than the pig loves acorns
or a true sow cabbage!"

"Sister, you speak so well
that you transpierce me all over.
I endear you that we both go
amuse ourselves among those ferns
before my love-sickness grows".
"Sir, I don't think that this May
you will see me go that way:
she who betrays her oaths must drain the bitter cup!"
"Since embroidery without eyelets
is worth little, said I,
let your good heart avail me!"
"You are moving me to great folly,
fair lord, because I love you plenty".

Therefore she let herself go
so much that I was almost afraid.
"Sister, since you can catch so well,
let's go place our trap
down there in the early grass".
She lifts her skirt up
to better walk unhindered,
and leads me under a beech,
and there she bends over.
"On the front side, said I, my girl,
you are too becoming,
so that you shan't see me, this year,
docking in this port of yours".

"Since you see that I am playful,
sir, you think about perversions;
and I would rather be struck by lightning
than commit such a grievous sin".
She walks away and makes her getaway;
she goes with her threadbare skirt,
big enough to look like a cupboard.
But, while crossing a rill, she slips
and deals with it so skillfully
that, with a flick of her jaw,
she falls bottom up.
Upon seeing such an expertise,
I left the place altogether.

Humble Flower, purity
and beauty never leave your side;
and since you are the flower of nobility,
my heart tells and repeats me
that he is a fool who opposes you.

Note: this poem is not as cryptic as one might suppose. The troubadour is one of those several men who dislike having to compare to a series of former lovers. He therefore, while courting a lady whose "side purity never leaves", goes for an abominably ugly swineherd in the hope she is a virgin. Upon seeing she is not, he proposes to sodomize her instead; she formally refuses, but then "slips" in a convenient position for the practice. Upon seeing the skill with which she goes about it, the troubadour infers she is inured to the practice and goes away. This fairly tasteless piece is interesting for two reasons. First, it treats a fetishist subject in an age (the late XIII century) in which the church reacted with torture and imprisonment even to the most innocent erotic literature. Second, it makes fun of the troubadouric stereotype of the faithful poet who always loves "of perfect love", of the "pastourelle" genre and even (in the envoi) of religious literature. The choice of the author of remaining anonymous should not surprise anyone.