| prosody | miscellaneous |
Una chansoneta fèra Voluntiers laner'a dir; Don tem que m'er a murir E far l'ai tal que sen sela. Ben la poira leu entendre Si tot s'es en aital rima; Li mot seran descubert Al quec de razon deviza. Bo·m sap car tan m'apodèra Mos cor que non puesc sufrir De mon talan descubrir; C'ades puech a plena vela (qui que veya joy dissendre) Per que no·y puesc nulh'escrima Trobar, ans m'ai trop suffert De far parer ma conquiza. Pus ma dona m'es tan vèra (trop miels qu'ieu no·il sai grazir) S'ieu quier als, tostems m'azir! Dieus en ira·m met'ab ela O·m fassa que be·m tanh pendre Per la gola d'una sima: Pro m'a dat sol lieys no pert; Dieus m'a pagat a ma guiza. Ben saup lo mel de la cèra Triar, e·l miels devezir Lo iorn que·m fes lieys ayzir; Pus, cazen clardat d'estela, Sa par no·s fay ad contendre Beutatz d'autra, si be·s lima, Ni aya cor tan asert De be s'aribar en Piza. Domna, can mi colc al sèra, La nueyt (e tot iorn) cossir Co·us pogues en grat servir: Cant ieu·m pes, qui·m fer ni·m pela No·m pot far en als entendre; Mos cors de gaug salh e guima, Tan ay en vos mon cor sert E ma voluntat assiza. Domna, si no·us alezèra Mos cors, lay on yeu dezir, Res plus tost no·m pot aucir; Si·m tarza, pensatz de tela Al cor c'om no·s pot defendre! Que·l vida m'es aytan prima Soven ay gaug e m'espert E·m pes: "Mala l'ai conquiza!" Doncx c'ay fag tan long'espèra Que aysi·m degues murir? Mas un iorn m'es vis que·m tir Un an. Lo pretz d'una mela Non tenc si no·m pot car vendre! Dreitz! Per que mos cors m'ensima C'ades m'estai l'uelh ubert Vas sela part on l'ay viza? Deu prec tan de mort m'escrima Donna, e m'aia suffert Tro qu'ie·us embraz ses chamiza. Qui trob'amor ses escrima Ja non deu planher si pert Domna qu'es vayra e griza. |
I shall gladly write a little song, [one] easy to sing, of which I fear that I shall die: so I shall write one such as it conceals its meaning. One will be able to understand it plainly, albeit it is in similar rhyme; the words will be evident to one who divides them reasonably. It feels good, for my heart so overpowers me that I cannot stand not revealing my intentions, for now I can, with no restrictions (whoever may see joy decaying), so that I can't find any disguise, rather I have endured too much not showing my conquest off. Since my lady is so true to me (so much more so than I can thank her for) if I ask for something else, I shall hate myself forever! May god sow discord among us or let him make me indeed deserve to be hanged by the neck from a tree-top: he has given me [all] good, if only I don't lose her; god has rewarded me my own way. He knew well how to part the honey from the wax, and chose the best, the day he had her made for me; since, in the shedding starlight, no other woman's beauty is made her match, however polished it may be or however set her heart may be to achieving the prize. Lady, when I lie down in the evening, I ponder all night and day how can I serve you to your satisfaction; I muse so much that if one hits me or tears my hair away, he can't turn my attention elsewhere; I leap and bound out of happiness, so much my heart and my desire are fixed in you. Lady, if I don't please you there where I wish to, nothing can kill me quicker; if it is delayed for me, think that fabric can't protect one's heart; for I cherish life so much that often I am happy, and lose myself and muse: "I have won her to my misfortune!" Then, why have I waited so long [only] to have to die this way? But a day seems to me to drag for a year. I am not worth a minnow if I can't resist! Right-ho! But why am I exalted [just] for standing now with my eyes open, facing the places I have seen her in? I pray god to shield me from death, lady, and to have kept me until I embrace you without a vestment. He who finds love without a decoy should not complain if he loses a lady whose colours are mutable. |