MENTRE QUE·L TALANS MI
COCHA ...
WHILE THE URGE IS PRESSING
ME ...
Amanieu de la Broqueira trans. James H. Donalson
(from Provençal)
Mentre que·l talans mi cocha,
Ai amors, si amors!
Chantarai tot a estros
De vos car mi faitz amar
Celeis que no·m vol jauzir
Ni de sos hueils esguarar:
Per qu'ieu m'azir,
Aiso·m destrui,
Mas lo joi de leis quar l'am me desdui.

Per leis soi plus leus que trocha,
E amors!
Ieu en fora plus deleitos
De burdir e de chantar
S'ela·m volgues aculhir,
Mas aquo l'es greu a far:
C'on plus dezir
Son cors, me fui;
Mas lo jois li de leis quar l'am vi.

Bels cors gens, dreitz, bela boca,
Et amors!
Et a blancas dens, hueils amoros,
E veiaire fresc celar,
Ins e mon cor remirar,
Quar per vos vei Pretz levar
E men cujei enrequir,
Cascus en brui,
Don de leis quar l'am me desdui.

Non ai mais dolor ni cocha,
Ei amors, si amors!
Ni trebaill tan perillos
Com aisel que·m far estar
Per mi dons en gran consir,
E no m'en vol ajudar,
Ben del murir.
Aisom destrui,
Mas lo joi de leis quar l'am mi desdui.

Sil sieus cors ab lo mieu locha
Sia o
Cai que l'us sobras d'amdos,
Be m'en deuria prezar,
Oc be, ses faillir;
S'aquest plaitz pot acordar
Ni avenir.
Morrai per celui.
Mas lo joi de leis quar l'am mi desdui.
While the urge is pressing me
Ah ! Love,
I will sing, and right away,
of you, for you make me love
one unwilling to enjoy
or to see me with her eyes
so I'm provoked
by this attack
for her joy's when Love makes fun of me.

For her I'm faster than a trout,
Ah! Love,
I would then take more delight
in my playfulness and song
if she'd only take me in:
here, it's hard for her to do
though more I want
her form, I've left:
for her joy's when Love's what I've seen.

Noble, shapely form, fair mouth,
Ah! Love,
teeth of white and lovely eyes
and a fresh thought to conceal,
to regard within my heart:
for I see her raise up worth
I thought enriched;
each one in tears,
where her joy's when Love makes fun of me.

I've no pain or pressure now,
Ah! Love,
nor a work so dangerous
as the one that makes me stay
by my lady, in deep thought
and she doesn't want to help:
I may die,
as I'm destroyed
but her joy's when Love makes fun of me.

If her body's in my place
Ah ! Love,
it happens that what's left of both
might well be enough for me:
Yes, indeed, and without fail,
if this truce can but agree
and come to be;
I'll die for her,
but her joy's when Love makes fun of me.

Trans. Copyright © James H. Donalson 2003


next
index
translator's next