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| prosody | miscellaneous |
Farai chansoneta nueva, Ans que vent ni gel ni plueva: Ma dona m'assaya e-m prueva, Quossi de qual guiza l'am; E ja per plag que m'en mueva No-m solvera de son liam. Qu'ans mi rent a lieys e-m liure, Qu'en sa carta-m pot escriure. E no m'en tenguatz per yure, S'ieu ma bona dompna am! Quar senes lieys non puesc viure, Tant ai pres de s'amor gran fam. ... ... Per aquesta fri e tremble, Quar de tam bon'amor l'am, Qu'anc no cug qu'en nasques semble En semblan del gran linh n'Adam. Que plus es blanca qu'evori, Per qu'ieu autra non azori: Si-m breu non ai aiutori, Cum ma bona dompna m'am, Morrai, pel cap sanh Gregori, Si no-m bayza en cambr'o sotz ram. Qual pro-y auretz, dompna conja, Si vostr'amors mi deslonja Par que-us vulhatz metre monja! E sapchatz, quar tan vos am, Tem que la dolors me ponja, Si no-m faitz dreg dels tortz q'ie-us clam. Qual pro i auretz s'ieu m'enclostre E no-m retenetz per vostre Totz lo joys del mon es nostre, Dompna, s'amduy nos amam. Lay al mieu amic Daurostre, Dic e man que chan e bram. |
I shall write a new little song before it turns windy, cold and rainy: let my mistress assay and test me so she'll learn in which fashion I love her; and certainly, come hell and high water, she won't free me from her snares. Instead, I surrender and deliver myself to her, so that she can write my name in her charter. And don't think I am drunk, if I love my good mistress, because I can't live without her, so much I starve for her love. ... ... I shiver and shake for this woman because I love her of such a good love: I don't think one alike to her was born in the great lineage of the noble Adam. Because she is whiter than ivory, and for this I can't adore anyone else: if I am not reassured shortly, that my good mistress loves me, I shall die, by the head of St. Gregory, unless she kisses me in her room or under a tree. What good will it be to you, beautiful dame, if your love parts me from you? You seem to intend to become a nun! And know, since I love you so much, that I fear that the pain will harm me, if you don't redress the wrongs I blame on you. What good will it be to you if I become a monk and you don't keep me as your own? All the joy in the world is ours, Lady, if we love each other. Down there, I tell and command my friend Daurostre to sing and cry. |