CAN VEI LA LAUZETA
...........................MOVER ...
WHEN I SEE THE LARK
........................RISING UP ...
Bernart de Ventadorn trans. A.S.Kline (from Provençal)

Can vei la lauzeta mover
de joi sas alas contral rai,
que s'oblida e·s laissa cazer
per la doussor qu'al cor li vai,
ai! tan grans enveia m'en ve
de cui qu'eu veya jauzion!
meravilhas ai, quar desse
lo cor de dezirier no·m fon.

Ai las! tan cuyava saber
d'amor, e ten petit en sai!
quar eu d'amar no·m puesc tener
celieys don ia pro non aurai;
tout m'a mon cor e tout m'a me
e se mezeis' et tot lo mon,
e quan si·m tolc, no·m laisset re
mas dezirier e cor volon.

Anc non agui de me poder
ni no fui mieus de lor'en sai
que·m laisset en sos huelhs vezer
en un miralh que mot mi plai.
mirals, pus me mirei en te,
m'an mort li sospir de preon,
qu'aissi·m perdei cum perdet se
lo bels Narcisus en la fon.

De las donas mi dezesper;
ia mais en lor no·m fiarai;
qu'aissi cum las suelh captener,
enaissi las descaptendrai.
pus vei qu'una pro no m'en te
ves lieis que·m destrui e·m cofon,
totas las dopt' e las mescre,
quar be sai qu'autretals se son.

D'aisos fa be femna parer
ma dona, per qu'ieu·l o retrai,
quar non vol so qu'om deu voler,
e so qu'om li deveda, fai.
cazutz sui en mala merce,
et ai ben fait co·l fols en pon,
e no sai per que m'esdeve,
mas quar trop pogei contra mon.

Merces es perduda per ver,
(et ieu non o saubi anc mai),
quar cil qui plus en degr'aver,
no·n a ges; et on la querrai?
al quan mal sembla, qui la ve,
qued aquest caitiu deziron,
que is ses leis non aura be,
laisse morir, que no l'aon!

Pus ab midons no·m pot valer
precs ni merces ni·l dregz qu'ieu ai,
ni a leis no ven a plazer
qu'ieu l'am, ia mais no·l o dirai;
aissi·m part de lieis e·m recre;
mort m'a, e per mort li respon,
e vau m·en, pus ilh no·m rete,
caitius, en issilh, no sai on.

Tristans, ges no·n auretz de me,
qu'ieu m'en vau, caitius, no sai on.
de chantar mi gic e·m recre,
e de joi e d'amor m'escon.

When I see the lark display
His wings with joy against the day,
Forgetting, fold then fall away,
As sweetness to his heart makes way,
Such great envy then invades
My mind: I see the rest take fire,
And marvel at it, for no way
Can my heart turn from its desire.

Ah, I so dearly wished to know
Of love, yet so little learn,
For I cannot keep from loving her
Who will not have me, though I burn.
She stole my heart, and all of me,
And she herself, and worlds apart;
Lacking herself, now nothingís left
But longing and the willing heart.

For ĎIí has no power over ĎIí
Nor has had since the day I know
I let myself gaze in her eye,
The mirror that pleased me so.
Mirror, now Iím mirrored in you,
Profound sighs are killing me,
I lost myself as he did too
Narcissus gazing in the deep.

Of every lady I despair!
And in them I can place no trust!
Those I once would seek to cheer
Leave them cheerless now I must.
Seeing her then who wonít have me,
She who destroys me and confounds,
I doubt them all and canít believe,
Knowing them other than theyíre found.

My lady shows herself, not to my good,
A woman indeed, scorns my behest,
Since she wishes not what she should
But whatís forbidden her finds best.
Now Iím fallen from all grace,
Iíve done well on the assesí bridge!
And donít know why Iím in disgrace,
Except Iíve asked a world too much.

Mercyís lost, and gone from sight
And now I can retrieve it not.
Since she who owns to it of right
Has none to give, and whereís it sought?
How little it seems to those who see -
What would she want with me poor wretch? -
That without her nothingís here for me,
She lets me die whoíve no help left.

Since with my lady thereís no use
In prayers, her pity, or pleading law,
Nor is she pleased at the news
I love her: then Iíll say no more,
And so depart and swear itís done!
Iím dead: by death Iíll answer her,
And off Iíll go: sheíll see me gone,
To wretched exile, who knows where?

Tristram, none will hear of me:
Off Iíll go, who knows where?
Iíll sing no more, resigned Iíll be,
And banish joy and love of her.

Note: Pound adapts and utilises phrases from verse 1, Ďqual cor mi vai: that goes to my heartí at the start of
Canto XCI; Ďes laissa cader: lets fallí and Ďde joi sas alas: with joy, its wingsí in Notes for Canto CXVII et seq.

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See also Translator's website at: Poetry in Translation

Trans. Copyright © A.S.Kline 2010


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