TANT AI MO COR PLE DE JOYA ... SO FULL IS MY HEART OF JOY NOW ...
Bernart de Ventadorn trans. A.S.Kline (from Provençal)

Tant ai mo cor ple de joya,
tot me desnatura.
flor blancha, vermelh' e groya
me par la freyura,
c'ab lo ven e ab la ploya
me creis l'aventura,
per que mos pretz mont' e poya
e mos chans melhura.
tan ai al cor d'amor,
de joi e de doussor,
per que·l gels me sembla flor
e la neus verdura.

Anar posc ses vestidura,
nutz en ma chamiza,
car fin amors m'asegura
de la freya biza.
mas es fols qui·s desmezura,
e no·s te de guiza,
per qu'eu ai pres de me cura,
deis c'agui enquiza
la plus bela d'amor,
don aten tan d'onor,
car en loc de sa ricor
no volh aver Piza.

De s'amistat me reciza!
mas be n'ai fiansa,
que sivals eu n'ai conquiza
la bela semblansa;
et ai ne a ma deviza
tan de benanansa,
que ia·l jorn que l'aurai viza
non aurai pezansa.
mo cor ai pres d'amor,
que l'esperitz lai cor,
mas lo cors es sai, alhor,
lonh de leis, en Fransa.

Eu n'ai la bon'esperanza.
mas petit m'aonda,
c'atressi·m ten en balansa
com la naus en fonda
del mal pes que·m desenansa,
no sai on m'esconda.
tota noih me vir' e·m lansa
desobre l'esponda:
plus trac pena d'amor
de Tristan l'amador,
que·n sofri manhta dolor
per Izeut la blonda.

Ai Deus! car no sui ironda,
que voles per l'aire
e vengues de moih prionda
lai dins so repaire?
bona domna jauzionda,
mor se·l vostr' amaire!
paor ai que·l cors me fonda,
s'aissi·m dura gaire.
domna, per vostr' amor
jonh las mas ed ador!
gens cors ab frescha color,
gran mal me faitz traire!

Qu'el mon non a nul afaire
don eu tan cossire,
can de leis au re retraire,
que mo cor no'i vire
e mo semblan no·m n'esclaire,
que que·m n'auiatz dire,
si c'ades vos er veyaire
c'ai talan de rire.
tan l'am de bon'amor
que manhtas vetz en plor
per o que melhor sabor
m'en an li sospire.

Messatgers, vai e cor,
e di·m a la sensor
la pen' e la dolor
que·n trac, e·l martire.

So full is my heart of joy now,
.........All is changed for me.
Flowering red, white, and yellow,
.........The winter seems to be,
For, with the wind and rain, so
.........My fortuneís bright I see,
My songs they rise, and grow
.........My worth proportionately.
Such love in my heart I find,
.........Such joy and sweetness mine,
Ice turns to flowers fine
.........And snow to greenery.

I go without my clothes now,
.........One thin shirt for me,
For noble love protects now
.........From the chilly breeze.
But heís mad whoíll not follow
.........Custom and harmony,
So Iíve taken care I vow
.........Since I sought to be
Lover of loveliest,
.........To be with honour blest:
Of her riches Iíd not divest
.........For Pisa, for Italy.

From her friendship Iím severed
.........Yet my faithís so in place,
That I can barely counter
.........The beauty of her face.
I cannot hope to wed here
.........Such happiness and grace,
On the day when I see her
.........Weightlessness I taste.
To Love my heartís as near
.........As body to spirit clear,
Though she is far from here,
.........Fair France where I am placed.

Iím full of hope thatís true now.
.........But thatís little use to me,
She holds me in suspense I vow
.........Like a ship upon the sea.
From sad thoughts that follow,
.........I cannot win free.
Each night, head on pillow,
.........I turn fretfully.
More pain of love I suffer
.........Than Tristan the lover,
Who felt much dolour
.........For Iseult, her beauty.

Oh God were I a swallow
.........Flying through the air,
Rising from the depths below
.........Where I now despair.
Sweet and joyous lady, know
.........Without your loving, there,
I die, my heart it breaks so
.........The pulse is scarcely there.
My lady for your grace
.........I clasp my hands and pray
Lithe body and fresh face,
.........Have brought me many a care.

The world and its affairs
.........Could not absorb me so,
That when men spoke of her
.........My heart it would not glow,
My face not brighten there.
.........When I speak of her also
Youíll quickly judge I care
.........Seeing my laughter grow.
My love for herís so deep
.........Often too I must weep,
So that my sighs taste sweet
.........Sweeter for tears they share.

Messenger, go now, fleet
.........Of foot, tell those you meet
Of all the pain and grief
.........It brings, the suffering I bear.

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Trans. Copyright © A.S.Kline 2010


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