povenca3

CAN LA VERZ FOLHA S'ESPAN ...	WHEN THE GREENERY UNFOLDS ...
Bernart de Ventadorn	trans. A.S.Kline (from Provençal)
Can la verz folha s'espan E par flors blanch' el ramel, Per lo douz chan del auzel Se vai mos cors alegran. Lancan ve.ls arbres florir Et au.l rossinhol chantar, Adonc deu.s ben alegrar Qui bon' amor sap chauzir. Mas eu n'ai una chauzida Per qu'eu sui cortes e gais. E se tuih el mon garan Desoz la chapa del cel Eron en un sol tropel, For d'una non ai talan. Mai d'aquesta no.m cossir, Que.l jorn me fai sospirar E la noih no posc pauzar Ni.m pren talans de dormir, Tan es grail' et eschafida, Ab cor franc e dihz verais. S'eu fos a lei destinan, E for'eu dinz d'un chastel Que.l jorn manges un morsel, Lai viuria sens afan, Se.m don'aisso qu'eu dezir De be far se deu penar, Car se.m ten en lonc pensar, No posc viure ni morir. Ar eslonh en breu ma vida, Si com ja de mort me trais	When the greenery unfolds And the branch is white with flower, With sweet birdsong in that hour My heart gently onward goes. When I see the blossoming trees And hear the nightingale in song, Then how can a man go wrong, Who chooses loving and is pleased. For I have one I’ve chosen Who gives me strength and joy. And if all the world now holds - All those under heaven’s power, Were gathered in some sweet bower, I’d only wish for one I know. Only she my heart can please, Who makes me sigh all day long, So at night my sleep is gone, Not that I desire to sleep. She, the slender dainty one, True heart, does true speech employ. If I were brought to her stronghold, Prisoned by her in some tower, And daily ate my morsel sour, Happily I’d there grow old, If my desire she granted me! She should try to do no wrong: If she made me yearn too long, Neither life nor death I’d see: Life for me as good as done, While there with death I’d sadly toy.