DOMNA, POIS DE MI NO·US CHAL ... |
LADY, SINCE YOU CARE NOT AT ALL ... | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Bertrans de Born | trans. A.S.Kline - (from Provençal) | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Domna, pois de mi no·us chal E partit m'avetz de vos Senes totas ochaisos,
Cobratz, e si del semblan No trob domna a mon talan Que valha vos qu'ai perduda, Jamais no volh aver druda. Pois no·us posc trobar egal, Que fos tan bela ni pros, Ni sos rics corps tan joios,
Irai per tot achaptan De chascuna un.bel semblan Per far domna soisseubuda Tro vos mi siatz renduda. Frescha color natural Pren, bels Cembelis, de vos E·l douz esgart amoros
Mi donz n'Aelis deman Son adreit parlar gaban; Que·m do a mi donz ajuda, Pois non er fada ni muda. De Chales la vescomtal Volh que·m done ad estros La gola e·ls mas amdos.
Als pels n'Anhes que·m dara·n, Qu'Iseutz, la domna Tristran, Qu'en fo per tot mentauguda, No·ls ac tan bels a saubuda. N'Audiartz, si be·m vol mal, Volh que·m do de sas faissos, Que.lh estai gen liazos,
A mon Melhz-de-be deman Son adreit, nou corps prezan, De que par a la veguda La fassa bo tener nuda. De na Faidida autretal Volh sas belas dens en dos, L'acolhir e·l gen respos
Sa gaieza e son bel gran, E quar sap son benestan Far, dont es reconoguda E no s'en chamja ni·s muda. Bels-Senher, eu no·us quier al Mas que fos tan cobeitos D'aquesta com sui de vos,
Mais volh de vos lo deman Que autra tener baisan, Doncs mi donz per que·m refuda, Pois sap que tan l'ai volguda? E Papiols, mon Aziman M'anaras dir·en chantan Qu'amors es desconoguda Sai e d'aut bas chazeguda. | Lady, since you care not at all For me, and keep me far from you, And for no good reason too,
And if I have not the making Of a lady as much to my liking, Of the worth of she that’s gone, I shall love no other one. Since I’ll not find your equal, Lovely as you, made as nobly, Nor so joyous, sweet in body,
I’ll go seeking everywhere A feature from each woman fair, To make a borrowed lady Till you look again toward me. Colour fresh and natural I’ll take, fair Cembelins, from you And your sweet love-glances too!
Then of Aelis I’ll demand Her adroit and charming tongue Which must surely aid my suit, That it be not dull or mute. On Chalais’ Vicomtess I call; I’d have her give instantly Her throat and hands to me.
That Agnes her hair might grant me Since Isolde, Tristan’s lady, Who was praised in every way Was less fair than she today. Audiart, though you wish me ill in all, I would that you dress her in your fashion, That she might be well-adorned
Of my Lady Better-than-Best, my plea Is her true fresh noble body That shows her at first sight Sweet to see naked if you might. On the ‘Exile’, too I call Wishing her white teeth, also That welcome and conversation, so
Is your gaiety and stature And what your fine manner Displays, well-known as ever, Never to change or waver. My Lady, all I’d wish befall Is that I might feel love, in truth, For her as much as I do for you!
Yet I’d rather of you demand A kiss than any other woman, So why does my love refuse me When she knows I need her truly? E Papiol, straight to my Lover, Go, for me now, sing to her, That love’s all disregarded, gone From the heights, fallen headlong. |
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Trans. Copyright © A.S.Kline 2008