| prosody | miscellaneous |
Pois la fuoilla revirola Que vei d'entre·ls cims cazer, Que·l vens deromp e degola, Que no·is pot mais sostener, Mais pretz lo freich temporau Que l'estiu plen de gandill Don nais puti' et enveia. Lo pics e la rossignola Tornon lor chant en tazer, Si·s fa·l gais e l'auriola, Don l'inverns fai son plazer! E l'orgoills torn' en canau Per garssos plens de grondill, Qu'en estiu contradenteia. Graissans ni serps que s'amola No·m fant espaven ni mau, Mosca ni tavans que vola, Escaravait ni bertau, Aquist malvatz volatill Non sent bruir ni oler, Don francs inverns nos neteia. Ges l'afilatz bec d'aissola Non pert son loc al fogau, Anz porta pic e massola Don son gran li dui mau. Cest tol si donz al jazer La dolor del penchinill, Pel feminiu don se breia. Cest trai del mieill la briola Plen' al maitin et al ser, E sobre·l faire faissola, Car pot la coa mover! Cest fai la nuoich son jornau, Don engenrra un bel fill, Per que sobreseignoreia. Cazen levan trobaiola Va·l segles e no m'en chau. Aissi cum la seguignola, Poi' amon e chai avau. |
Since I see the leaf turn around and fall from the canopy as the wind rips and tears, and it can no longer stay, I value the cold season more than the Summer, full of guiles, which gives rise to whoring and desire. The woodpecker and the she-nightingale turn their song into silence; so do the jay and the she-oriole, with whom Winter does as he pleases; and it keeps on a leash the pride of the grumbling knaves, which shows its teeth in the Summer. A toad or snake that huddles neither harms nor scares me, no more than a fly or horsefly, chafer or hornet, those wicked fliers; I do not perceive rustling nor stench, because the pure Winter cleanses us. Still, the sharp, adze-like beak does not lose his place by the fire: rather, he wields both blade and poll, whose double damage is great. He takes from his lady, while she's lying, the pain of the pubis in exchange for the feminine [part] by which he is shortened! This one takes an armload of the best, morning and evening, and, in doing so, embraces, because he knows how to use his dick. It is at night that that one does his work, from which he engenders a handsome son, through whom he lords over his lord. It is raising and falling in turmoil that the World goes (and I don't care), just as the little stork soars aloft and then drops down. |