| AMORS, E QUE·US ES VEJAIRE? ... |
LOVE, HOW DOES THIS APPEAR TO YOU? ... |
| Bernart de Ventadorn | trans. James H. Donalson (from Provençal) |
|
Amors, e que·us es vejaire? trobatz mais fol mas can me? cuidatz vos qu'eu si' amaire e que ja no trop merce? que que·m comandetz a faire farai o, c'assi·s cove: mas vos non estai ges be que·m fassatz tostems mal traire: Eu am la plus de bon aire del mon mais que nula re; et ela no m'ama gaire; no sai cossi·s esdeve! e can plus m'en cuit estraire eu no posc, c'Amors me te. Traitz sui per bona fe, Amors, be·us o posc retraire! Ab Amor m'er a contendre, que no m'en posc estener, qu'en tai loc me fai entendre don eu nul joi non esper (anceis me fari' a pendre car anc n'aic cor ni voler): mas eu non ai ges poder que·m posca d'Amor defendre. Pero Amors sap dissendre lai on li ven a plazer e sap gen guizardo rendre del maltraih e del doler tan no·m pot mersar ni vendre que mais no·m posca valer sol qu'Ela·m denhes vezer e mas paraulas entendre. Eu sai be razon e chauza que posc a midons mostrar: que nuls om no pot ni pauza enves Amor contrastar: car Amors vens tota chauza; e forsa·m de leis amar; atretal se pot leis far en una petita pauza! Grans enois es e grans nauza tot jorn de merce. clamar; mas l'amor qu'es en me clauza, no posc cobrir ni celar. las! mos cors no dorm ni pauza ni pot en un loc estar, ni eu no posc plus durar, si·lh dolors no·m asoauza. Domna, res no vos pot dire lo bo cor ni·l fin talan qu'eus ai, can be m'o cossire, c'anc re mais non amei tan. tost m'agram mort li sospire, domna, passat a un an, no·m fos per un bel semblan, don si doblan mei dezire. E1 No·n fatz mas gabar e rire, domna, can eu re·us deman; e si vos amassetz tan, alres vos n'avengr' a dire . E2 Ma chanson apren a dire, Alegret; e tu Ferran, porta la·m a mo Tristan, que sap be gabar e rire. |
Love, how does this appear to you? Have you found any greater-fool? Do you believe my search for love will lead to one who pities me? Whatever you would have me do I'll do if that's what's to be done but it is hardly good of you to make me always suffer ills. I love the one who is the best, and love her more than anything, and she loves me no way at all! I don't know how this comes to be! and when I try to get away I can't because love holds me back. My own good faith betrays me then, O Love, it's all I have to say. I must contend therefore, with love and there's no way I can abstain: in such a trance let me explain I have no hope of joy from this (for I'd be ready to be hanged if that was what I hungered for) but I do not have power enough to let me fight a war with Love. But Love well knows how to descend whenever it is pleased to do and it knows well to give rewards for the mistreatment and the pain: but there's no bargaining with me because I value nothing else except to get to see my love and have her deign to hear me out. I know a reason and a cause that I can show my lady now, that no man can stand up against or make himself opposed to Love for Love can conquer everyone and forces me to love none else, and in this way have done with her in but a very little time. It gives great sorrow and disgust to beg for mercy every day, although the love that's locked inside cannot be hidden or disguised; Oh! but my heart won't sleep or pause nor can it stay within a place and I can't last much longer here unless this pain will go away. My Lady, I can't say a thing: the warm heart and the deep desire I have for you, are troubling me: I've never loved this way before; the sighing would have killed me, too, my lady, it has been a year! If there had been no friendly face ... but that just doubles my desire. E1 No longer laugh and mock, my dear, when I have boons to ask of you, for if I weren't so in love you'd treat me better, there's no doubt. E2 Now learn to sing this song of mine, Alegret, and you too, Ferrand: take it for me to Tristram, too, for he knows how to jest and laugh. |
Trans. Copyright © James H. Donalson 2004