Thibaut IV de Champagne, Roi de Navarre tr. Peter Dean

Une chanson encor voil
Faire, pour moi conforter,
Pour celi dont je me doil
Voeil mont chant renoveler:
Por ce ai talent de chanter
Car quant je ne chant, mi oil
Tornent sovent en plorer.
Simple et france sans orgoil
Quidai ma dame trover:
Molt me fut de bel acoil,
Més ce fut pour moi grever,
Si sont á li mi penser,
Ke la nuit, quant je sommoil,
Va mes cuer merci crier.

One more love-song let me sing
For my heart’s delighting,
For the one to whom I’d cling
Let my song be enditing;
For here’s the source of all my singing.
When I can’t my eyes they sting
With tears there’s no suppressing.
Purely and simply may it spring
To where my lady’s resting:
Me much happiness that would bring,
But then, for me no blessing
If me her thought’s not missing,
Such that, nights, on slumber’s wing
Heart cries out for pitying.

Trans. Copyright © Peter Dean 2007

translator's next