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| prosody | miscellaneous |
En breu brizara'l temps braus e'l biza, e'l brus e'l blancx qui s'entresenhon trastuig de sobre claus ram de fuelha: qu'ar no'i chant'auzel ni piula, m'ensenh Amors qu'ieu fassa donc chan que non er segons ni tertz, ans prim d'afrancar cor agre. Amors es de pretz la claus e de proeza us estancx don naisson tut li bon frug, s'es qui leialmen los cuelha, que un delis gels ni niula, mentre que's noiris el bon tronc: mas si'l romp trefas ni culvertz, peris tro leial lo sagre. Falhirs emendatz es laus; e ieu senti'm n'ams los flancx que mais n'ai d'amor ses cug que tals qu'en parl'e's n'orguelha, que piegz me fa'l cor de friula; mentr'ela'm fes semblant embronc, mais volgr'ieu trair pen'els desertz on anc non ac d'auzels agre. Bona doctrina e suaus e cors clars, suptils e francx manda'm er al ferm condug de leis don plus vuelh que'm cuelha, quar, si'm fo fera escriula, era jauzen breuja'm temps lonc, qu'il m'es plus fina e ieu lieis sertz que Talant e Meleagre. Tan dopti que per non-aus devenc soven ners e blancx; si m'a'l sen Desirs forsdug non sap lo cors trep o's duelha; mas Jois qui d'esper m'afiula m'encolpa quar no la somonc, per que sui del prec tan espertz non ai d'als talan neis magre. Pensar de liei m'es repaus, e tragua'm ambs los huelhs crancx s'a lieis vezer no'ls estug; e'l cor non creatz qu'en tuelha, quar orars ni jocx ni viula no'm pot de lieis un travers jonc partir...qu'ai dig? Dieu, tu m'o mertz o'm peris el pelac agre. Arnautz vol sos chans sia ufertz lai on dous motz mou en agre. |
Soon the bad season will be over and [with it] the gale and the dusk and the hoar which now show themselves openly over boughs devoid of any leaf; since now no bird sings or chirps there, Love then bids me stir such a song as to be neither second nor third, but first in sweetening a sour heart. Love is the key to Worth and of valour it is the paramount where all the best fruits are born, if there's one to pluck them loyally, since none is spoilt by frost or fog, while it feeds on the good bole: but if broken by the wicked or treacherous, it withers until a righteous lover blesses it. To stand corrected in wrong is praise; and I feel in both my sides that I bring more love, doubtlessly, than those who talk and brag, since it makes my heart more feeble: while she was smirking at me, I would rather have roamed, penitent, in deserts where no bird has ever nested. Teachings good and sweet, and a fair, subtle and earnest heart now entrust me to the firm command of the one whose welcome I long for above all others since, if once she was to me cold and unreachable, now she shortens my long time with joy, since she's to me more faithful and I to her more subservient than Atalanta and Meleager. I fear so much that, not daring, I often become black and white; and Desire has so much driven me out of my wit that I don't know whether my heart weeps or rejoices; but Joy, which wreaths me with hope, blames me because I don't ask her for love, since I am so eager to entreat that I don't seem to wish for anything else. Thinking of her is my rest, and may cancer gnaw both my eyes if I don't keep them only to behold her; and don't think I turn my heart elsewhere, since neither prayer nor game nor viol can part me from her the length of a reed... what did I say? God, help my merits or may the bitter ocean have me. Arnaut wishes his song to be offered there where a sweet word begins with "agre". |