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| prosody | miscellaneous |
Assatz sai d'amor ben parlar Ad ops dels autres amadors; Mas al mieu pro, que m'es plus car, Non sai ren dire ni comtar; Qu'a mi non val bes ni lauzors Ni mals-digz ni motz avars; Mas ar sui vas Amor aitaus Fis e bos e francs e liaus Per qu'ensenharai ad amar Los autres bos dompneyadors; E si·n crezon mon essenhar Far lor a d'amar conquistar Tot aitan cant volran de cors! E si'oguan pendutz o ars Qui no m'en creira, qar bon laus N'auran selhs qu'en tenran las claus! Si voletz dompnas guazanhar, Quan querretz que·us fassan honors, Si·us fan avol respos avar Vos las prenetz a menassar; E si vos fan respos peiors Datz lor del ponh per mieg sas nars; E si son bravas siatz braus Ab gran mal n'auretz gran repaus. Ancar vos vuelh mais ensenhar Ab que conquerretz las melhors. Ab mals digz et ab lag chantar Que fassatz tut, et ab vanar; E que honretz las sordeyors. Per lor anctas las levetz pars, E que guardetz vostres ostaus Que non semblon gleisas ni naus. Ab aisso n'auretz pro, so·m par. Mas ieu·m tenrai d'autras colors Per so quar no·m agrad'amar; Que ja mais no·m vuelh castiar, Que s'eron totas mas serors! Per so lor serai fis e cars, Humils e simples e leyaus, Dous, amoros, fis e coraus. Mas d'aisso·us sapchatz ben gardar, Que so qu'ie·n farai er folhors. Non fassatz ver que nesci par; Mas so qu'ieu ensenh tenetz car Si non voletz sofrir dolors Ab penas et ab loncs plorars! Qu'aissi lor for'envers e maus Si mais m'agrades lor ostaus. Mas per so·m puesc segurs guabar Qu'ieu, et es mi grans deshonors, Non am ren, ni sai qu'es enquar! Mas mon Anel am, que·m ten clar, Quar fon el det . . . ar son, trop sors! Lengua, non mais! que trop parlars Fai piegz que pechatz criminaus; Per qu'ieu·m tenrai mon cor enclaus. Mas be·l sabra mos belhs Jocglars; Qu'ilh val tant, e m'es tan coraus, Que ja de lieys no·m venra maus. E mos vers tenra, qu'era·l paus, A Rodes, don son naturaus. |
I can very well talk about love for the sake of other lovers; but for my own profit, which is dearer to me, I'm unable to say or tell anything; for neither good words nor praises avail me, nor does abuse, nor do smarting words; but now I'm so faithful and good and earnest and loyal to Love that I shall teach how to love to the other good ladies' men; and if they believe my teaching in the matter, it will make them attain, in love, their heart's desire right away; and whoever doesn't believe my expertise, let him be hanged or burnt at the stake, for glory is to those who will hold its key. If you want to win ladies, when you wish them to do you honour, if they give you unpleasant, smarting answers, take to threatening them; and if they give you worse answers, punch them right on the nose; and if they are harsh, be harsh: with great ills you'll have great peace. And I will teach you more still, something that'll make you win the best ones. Do everything bragging, with bad words and hideous singing; and honour the most dishonourable women. Make them your mates because of their ignominies and watch that your lodgings don't look like churches or ships. You'll profit by this, it seems to me. But I shall display different colours because loving doesn't agree with me; I don't wish to restrain myself, no more than if all ladies were my sisters; I shall therefore be faithful and dear to them, humble, direct and loyal, sweet, loving, faithful and sincere. But be sure to keep yourself from this, since what I'll do is folly. Don't do something sane when it seems madness; but hold what I teach you dear if you don't want to suffer pain along with anguish and long weeping; for I would be wayward and ill towards them if their lodgings pleased me more. But I can greatly praise them because of this: that I, and it greatly shames me, don't love anything, nor know what love consists of. But I do love My Ring, which keeps me radiant for it was the finger...now, sound, you come out too much! Tongue, no more! For too much talking turns worse than a mortal sin; wherefore I shall keep my heart undisclosed. But my fair Joglar will see through it, for she is of such worth, and so dear to me that no ill will ever come to me from her. And she will have my verse, for now I end it at Rodez, where I'm at home. |