Per mels cobrir lo mal pes (Anne)
Per melhs cobrir lo mal pes e.l cossire
chan e deport et ai joi e solatz;
e fatz esfortz car sai chantar ni rire,
car eu me mor e nul semblan no.n fatz;
e per Amor sui si apoderatz,
tot m'a vencut a forsa e batalha.
Anc Deus no fetz trebalhas ni martire,
ses mal d'amor, qu'eu no sofris en patz;
mas d'aquel sui, si be.m peza, sofrire,
c'Amors mi fai amar lai on li platz;
e dic vos be que s'eu no sui amatz,
ges no reman en lai mia nualha.
Midons sui om et amics e servire,
e no.lh en quer mais autras amistatz
mas c'a celat los seus bels olhs me vire,
que gran be.m fan ades can sui iratz;
e ren lor en laus e merces e gratz,
qu'el mon non ai amic que tan me valha.
Dins en mo cor me corrotz e.m azire,
car eu sec tan las mias volontatz.
Mas negus om no deu aital re dire,
c'om no sap ges com s'es aventuratz.
Que farai doncs dels bels semblans privatz?
Falhirai lor? Mais volh que.l mons me falha!
Corona, man salutz e amistaz,
e prec midons que m'ayut e me valha.
(To better hide the dark thoughts and the pain, I sing and play around, I have pleasure and solace; I make an effort, because I know how to sing and laugh. Still, I am dying, but show no sign of it, and by Love am so overcome, for Love has conquered me by force and battle.
Never has God created martyrdom and travail that I could not undergo peacefully, except for lovesickness. Still, although it weighs on me, I suffer it, for Love makes me love where he pleases. And I say to you that if I am not loved, it is not the fault of my passivity.
I am the servant and friend and vassal of my lady, and I do not ask from her any other favor but this: secretly, to turn her fair eyes to me, for when I am distraught they do me much good. In my heart I blame and accuse myself for following so my desires. Noone should say such things, because we never know what our destiny will be. What shall I do, then, with her beautiful, secret glances? Shall I fail them? Better that the world itself fail me.
Corona, I send greetings and love, and I pray my lady that she aid and assist me.)
poem by Bernard de Ventadorn
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Pois preyatz me, senhor
Pois preyatz me, senhor,
qu'eu chan, eu chantarai;
e can cuit chantar, plor
a l'ora c'o essai.
Greu veiretz chantador
be chan, si mal li vai.
Vai me doncs mal d'amor?
Ans mels que no fetz mai!
E doncs, per que m'esmai?
Gran ben e gran onor
conosc que Deus me fai,
qu'eu am la belazor
et ilh me, qu'eu o sai.
Mas eu sui sai, alhor,
e no sai com l'estai!
So m'auci de dolor,
car ochaizo non ai
de soven venir lai.
Amors, e que.m farai?
Si garrai ja ab te?
Ara cuit qu'e.m morrai
del dezirer que.m ve,
si.lh bela lai on jai
no m'aizis pres de se,
qu'eu la manei e bai
et estrenha vas me
so cors blanc, gras e le.
Bona domna, merce
del vostre fin aman!
Mas jonchas, ab col cle,
vos m'autrei e.m coman.
Qu'e.us pliu per bona fe
c'anc re no amei tan.
E si locs s'esdeve,
vos me fatz bel semblan,
que molt n'ai gran talan.
(Since you request me to sing, my Lords, I shall sing.And when I think of singing, I weep just at the moment when I begin. You will hardly ever here a singer who sings well, if he is unhappy. Am I thus unhappy in love? No, rather better than ever. Then why I am I in disarray?
I know that God has done me a great honor, since I love the most beautiful of women and she me, as far as I know. But I am elsewhere, and I do not know how she is, which kills me with sorrow, for I do not often have the opportunity to go there.
Now, Love, what shall I do? Shall I ever be cured of you? Right now I think I will die of the desire that comes upon me, if the fair one invites me to be near her, where she sleeps, so that I can caress and kiss and hold next to mine her body, white, round, and smooth.
Sweet lady, have pity on your faithful lover! Hands joined, head bowed, I commend myself to your mercy. For I swear to you in faith that I have never loved anyone as much as you. And if the right moment occurs, show me your best behavior, for I really desire it so.)
poem by Bernard de Ventadorn
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Bel m'es can eu vei la brolha
Bel m'es can eu vei la bròlha
reverdir per mei lo brolh
e.lh ram son cubert de folha
e.l rossinhols sotz de folh
chanta d'amor, don me dolh;
e platz me qued eu m'en dolha,
ab sol qued amar me volha
cela qu'eu desir e volh.
Eu la volh can plus s'orgolha
vas me, mas oncas orgolh
n'ac va lei. Per so m'acolha
ma domna, pois tan l'acolh
c'a tota autras me tolh
per lei, cui Deus no me tolha.
Ans li do cor qu'en grat colha
so que totz jorns s'amor colh.
S'amor colh, qui m'empreizona,
per lei que mala preizo
me fai, c'ades m'ochaizona
d'aisso don ai ochaizo.
Tort n'a, mas eu lo.lh perdo,
e mos cors li reperdona,
car tan la sai bel'e bona
que tuih li mal m'en son bo.
Bo son tuih li mal que.m dona;
mas per Deu li quer un do:
que ma bocha, que jeona,
d'un douz baizar dejeo.
Mas trop quer gran guizerdo
celei que tan guizardona;
e can eu l'en arazona,
ilh me chamja ma razo.
Ma razo chamja e vira;
mas eu ges de lei no.m vir
mo fi cor, que la dezira
aitan que tuih mei dezir
son de lei per cui sospir.
E car ela no sospira,
sai qu'en lei ma mortz se mira,
can sa gran beutat remir.
Ma mort remir, que jauzir
no.n posc ni no.n sui jauzire;
mas eu sui tan bos sofrire
c'atendre cuit per sofrir.
(It pleases me to see the trees turning green in the middle of the forest, when the branches are covered with leaves and the nightingale under the leaves sings of love, that from which I suffer. And it pleases me to suffer from love, if only she whom I desire wants to love me.
I want her, though she is haughty towards me, but I have never been haughty towards her. May thus my lady welcome me, since I welcome her so well that I abandon all the others for her, provided that God does not abandon me. May it inspire in her rather the desire to acknowledge the fact that I acknowledge each day her love in me.
I acknowledge her love that imprisons me, for her who casts me into a bad prison. Now she reproaches me things for which I bear her reproach.Wrong she is, but I pardon her, and my heart pardons her, for I know the season to be fair and good, and that all wrongs to me are good.
Good are all the wrongs she does me, but I ask God one gift: that my mouth, which is fasting, receive from her a sweet kiss as break-fast. I demand too great a reward of she who rewards so generously; and when I reason to her, she changes my reasons.
My reason changes and shifts, but I hardly change at all my faithful heart, which desires her so much that all my desires are for her for whom I sigh. And since she does not sigh [for me], I know that in her my death is contemplated, when I contemplate her great beauty.
I contemplate my death, since I cannot pleasure in her and am not pleasured. But I am such a good patient that I can await in patience.)
poem by Bernard de Ventadorn
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Era.m conseillatz
Era.m cosselhatz, senhor,
vos c'avetz saber e sen:
una domna.m det s'amor,
c'ai amada lonjamen;
mas eras sai de vertat
qu'ilh a autr'amic privat,
ni anc de nul companho
companha tan greus no.m fo.
D'una re sui en error
e.n estau en pensamen:
que m'alonje ma dolor,
s'eu aquest plai li cossen,
e s'aissi.l dic mon pessat,
vei mon damnatge doblat.
Cal que.n fassa o cal que no,
re no posc far de mo pro.
E s'eu l'am a dezonor,
esquerns er a tota gen;
e tenran m'en li pluzor
per cornut e per sofren.
E s'aissi pert s'amistat,
be.m tenh per dezeretat
d'amor, e ja Deus no.m do
mais faire vers ni chanso.
Pois voutz sui en la folor,
be serai fols, s'eu no pren
d'aquestz dos mals lo menor;
que mais val, mo essien,
qu'eu ay' en leis la meitat
que.l tot perda per foldat,
car anc a nul drut felo
d'amor non vi far so pro.
Pois vol autre amador
ma domn', eu non lo.lh defen;
e lais m'en mais per paor
que per autre chauzimen;
e s'anc om dec aver grat
de nul servizi forsat,
be dei aver guizerdo
eu, que tan gran tort perdo.
De l'aiga que dels olhs plor,
escriu salutz mais de cen,
que tramet a la gensor
et a la plus avinen.
Mantas vetz m'es pois membrat
de so que.m fetz al comjat:
que.lh vi cobrir sa faisso,
c'anc no.m poc dir oc ni no.
Garsio, ara.m chantat
ma chanso, et la.m portat
a mo Messager, qu'i fo,
q'elh quer cosselh qu'el me do.
(Now give me counsel, Lords, you who are wise and intelligent. A lady, whom I long loved, gave me her love. But now I know for sure that she has another lover in secret, and never the company of another companion was so hard to bear.
One thing makes me out of sorts and pensive: that I prolong my suffering if I agree to this case. And if I say what I think, I see my injuries doubled. Whatever I do, or don't do, I can't accomplish for my own good.
And if I love her in dishonor, I shall be scorned by all; and the majority will consider me a passive cuckold. But if I lose her friendship, I hold myself disinherited by love, and may God never permit me again to compose verses and songs.
Since I am involved in madness, I should be mad if I did not chose the lesser of these two evils. for it is better, in my opinion, to have half of her than to loose everything through folly; for I have never seen an unfaithful lover win out for himself in love.
Since you want another lover, my lady, I shall not forbid it. And I agree more from fear than from anything else. And if ever someone should be grateful for forced labor, I should be rewarded, who have pardoned so great a wrong.
With the water that flows from my eyes, I send greetings, more than a hundred, that I transmit to the most fair and noble one. Often do I remember what she would do on parting -- how she would cover her face, so that she would be saying neither yes nor no.
Garsio, now go and sing my song, and bring it to my Messenger, who was there, and to whom I demand what counsel he [she] would give.)
poem by Bernard de Ventadorn
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Quan l'herba fresqu'el.h folha
Can l'erba fresch'e.lh folha par
e la flors boton'el verjan
e.l rossinhols autet e clar
leva sa vots e mou so chan,
joi ai de lui, e joi ai de la flor
e joi de me e de midons major;
daus totas partz sui de joi claus e sens,
mas sel es jois que totz autres jois vens.
Tan am midons e la tenh car,
e tan la dopt' e la reblan
c'anc de me no.lh auzi parlar,
ni re no.lh quer ni re no.lh man.
Pero elh sap mo mal e ma dolor,
e can li plai, mi fai be e onor,
e can li plai, eu m'en sofert ab mens,
per so c'a leis no.n avenha blastens.
S'eu saubés la gen enchantar,
mei enemic foran efan,
que ja us no saubra triar
ni dir re que.ns tornes a dan.
Adoncs sai eu que vira la gensor
e sos bels olhs e sa frescha color,
e baizera.lh la bocha en totz sens,
si que d'un mes i paregra lo sens.
Be la volgra sola trobar,
que dormis, o.n fezés semblan,
per qu'e.lh emblès un doutz baizar,
pus no valh tan qu'eu lo.lh deman.
Per Deu, domna, pauc esplecham d'amor;
vai s'en lo tems, e perdem lo melhor!
Parlar degram ab cubertz entresens,
e, pus no.ns val arditz, valgués nos gens!
Ai las! com mor de cossirar!
que manhtas vetz en cossir tan:
lairó m'en poirian portar
que re no sabria que.s fan.
Per Deu, Amors! be.m tròbas vensedor:
ab pauc d'amics e ses autre senhor.
Car una vetz tan midons no destrens
abans qu'eu fos del dezirer estens?
Messatger, vai, e no m'en prezes mens,
s'eu del anar vas midons sui temens.
(When the new vegetation and the leaves appear, when the flowers bloom on the branch, and when the nightingale clear and loud raises its voice and begins to sing, I rejoice in the nightingale, and in the flowers, and in myself, and most of all in my lady. I am surrounded by joy on all sides, but she is the joy from which all other joys come.
So much do I love my lady, and hold her dear, and so much do I fear and honor her, that I dare not talk to her of myself. I ask her nothing and I send her nothing. But still she knows of my pain and sorrow, and when it pleases her she bestows on me grace and honor, and when it pleases her I submit to even less so that no blame may come to her.
If I knew how to cast spells on people, my enemies would become babes, so that none of them could discover anything that could be turned against us. I know now that I will see my lady, and her fair eyes and fresh color, and I will kiss her on the mouth every which way, so that for a month the marks will be visible.
I would like to find her alone, sleeping, or pretending to sleep, so that I could steal a sweet kiss from her, since I am not worth so much that I could ask it of her. By God, lady, little do we profit from our love; time passes, and we are losing the best moments. We should speak in a coded language, and since audacity is worth little, may ingenuity be the thing.
Alas! I die from desire. For often, I am so full of yearning that theives could carry me off, and I wouldn't even realize what was happening. By God, Love! you find me Defeated (vensedor=Ventadorn), with few friends and without another master. Why don't you, once, ensnare my lady, before I am consumed with passion?)
poem by Bernard de Ventadorn
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Lancan vei per mei la landa
Lancan vei per mei la landa
dels arbres chazer la fòlha,
ans que.lh frejura s'espanda
ni.l gens termini s'esconda,
m'es bel que si' auzitz mos chans,
qu'estat n' aurai mais de dos ans,
e cové que.n fass' esmenda.
Mout m'es greu que ja reblanda
celeis que vas me s'orgòlha
car si mos cors re.lh demanda,
no.lh platz que mot m'i responda.
Be m'auci mos nescis talans,
car sec d' amor los bels semblans
e no ve c' amors lh' atenda.
Deus, que tot lo mon garanda,
li met' en cor que m'acòlha,
c' a me no te pro vianda
ni negus bes no.m aonda.
Tan sui vas la bela doptans,
per qu' e.m ren a leis merceyans:
si.lh platz, que.m don o que.m venda!
Mal o fara, si no.m manda
venir lai on se despòlha,
qu'eu sia per sa comanda
pres del leih, josta l'esponda,
e.lh traya.ls sotlars be chaussans,
a genolhs e umilians,
si.lh platz que sos pes me tenda.
Faihz es lo vers tot a randa,
si que motz no.i deschapdòlha,
outra la terra normanda,
part la fera mar prionda;
e si.m sui de midons lonhans,
vas se.m tira com azimans
la bela cui Deus defenda.
Si.l reis engles e.l ducs normans
o vol, eu la veira abans
que l'iverns nos sobreprenda.
(parlé)Pel rei sui engles e normans,
e si no fos Mos Azimans,
restera tro part calenda.
(When I see the leaves of the trees fall off in the middle of the fields, before the cold spreads and the good season disappears, it seems good to me that my song be heard, for I have not done so in over two years, and I should atone for that.
It is painful for me to serve still the one who is so haughty towards me, for if my heart demands something of her she doesn't wish to speak even a word. My foolish desire kills me, because it pursues the fair appearance of love, and does not see that love awaits.
May God, who guards the universe, place in her heart a welcome for me, for no food is of benefit to me, and no bounty consoles me. I am so uncertain concerning the fair one that I deliver myself, pleading for mercy, to her. So if she wishes, she can give me away, or sell me.
She would do a wrong if she did not invite me to come to the place where she undresses, so that I may be at her command, next to her, at the edge of the bed, and I would take off her graceful slippers, on my knees and humble, if it pleased her to extend to me her feet.
This poem is perfectly made, without a single badly-made word, beyond the land of Normandy, beyound the wild and deep sea. And although I am far from my lady, I am drawn to her like a magnet, she whom God may protect.
If the English king and the Norman duke wish it, I shall see her before the winter takes us by surprise. By grace of the king I am English, and Norman, and if it were not for My Magnet, I would remain here until after Christmas.)
poem by Bernard de Ventadorn
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Pos de chantar
Pos de chantar m'es pres talentz,
Farai un vers don sui dolenz:
Mais non serai obedienz,
En Peitau ni en Lemozi. Translation:
As the desire to sing takes hold of me,
I will make a song about my sorrow;
I will no longer be a servant of love
In Poitou nor in Limousin.
Qu'era m'en irai en eisil:
En gran paor, en grand peril,
En guerra laissarai mon fil,
E faran li mal siei vezi.
For now I will go into exile:
In great fear, in great peril,
In war, I will leave my son
And his people will harm him.
Lo departirs m'es aitan grieus
Del senhoratge de Peitieus!
En garda lais Folcon d'Angieus
Tota la terra e son cozi.
The departure from the realm
Of Poitiers is so difficult for me!
I leave Foucon of Angers in charge
Of all the land and of his cousin.
Si Folcos d'Angieus no.l socor,
E.l reis de cui ieu tenc m'onor,
Faran li mal tuit li pluzor,
Felon Gascon et Angevi.
If Foucon of Angers does not help him
And the king from whom I hold my realm,
Many people will bring him harm,
Treacherous Gascons and Angevins.
Si ben non es savis ni pros,
Cant ieu serai partiz de vos,
Vias l'auran tornat en jos,
Car lo veiran jov' e mesqui.
If he is neither wise nor mighty
When I will have left you,
They will soon overthrow him
For they will see him young and weak.
Merce quier a mon compaignon
S'anc li fi tort qu'il m'o perdon;
Et ieu prec en Jesu del tron
Et en romans et en lati.
I seek mercy on my companion
If I have ever wronged him, may he pardon me,
And I pray to Jesus on the throne,
In French and in Latin.
De proeza e de joi fui,
Mais ara partem ambedui,
Et eu irai m'en a scellui
On tut peccador troban fi.
I have might and joy,
But now we all part,
And I go to the One
With whom all sinners find peace.
Mout ai estat cuendes e gais,
Mas Nostre Seigner no.l vol mais;
Ar non puesc plus soffrir lo fais,
Tant soi aprochatz de la fi.
I have been most jovial and joyful,
But our Lord wants that no more;
Now I can suffer this burden no longer
Since the end draws so near.
Tot ai guerpit quant amar sueill,
Cavalaria et orgueill;
E pos Dieu platz, tot o acueill,
E prec li que.m reteng' am si.
I have left behind all that I once loved
Chivalry and pride;
And since it pleases God, I accept all that
And pray Him to retain me in His presence.
Toz mos amics prec a la mort
Que vengan tut e m onren fort,
Qu'eu ai avut joi e deport
Loing e pres et e mon aizi.
I pray all my friends, at my death
That they all come and give me great honor,
For I have known joy and pleasure
Far and near and in my realm.
Aissi guerpisc joi e deport
E vair e gris e sembeli.
Thus I renounce joy and pleasure
The brown, grey, and sable furs.
poem by Duke of Aquintane Guilluame IX
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Non es meravelha s'eu chan
Non es meravelha s'eu chan
melhs de nul autre chantador,
que plus me tra.l cors vas amor
el melhs sui faihz a so coman.
Cor e cors e saber e sen
e fors' e poder i ai mes.
Si.m tira vas amor lo fres
que vas autra part no.m aten.
Cant eu la vei, be m'es parven
als olhs, al vis, a la color
car aissi tremble de paor
com fa la folha contra.l ven.
Non ai de sen per un efan
aissi sui d'amor entrepres;
e d'ome qu'es aissi conques
pot domn'aver almorna gran.
Ai Deus! car se fosson trian
d'entrels faus li fin amador,
e.lh lauzenger e.lh trichador
portesson corns el fron denan!
Tot l'aur del mon e tot l'argen
i volgr'aver dat, s'eu l'agues,
sol que ma domna conogues
aissi com eu l'am finamen.
Bona domna, re no.us deman
mas que.m prendatz per servidor,
qu'e.us servirai com bo senhor,
cossi que del gazardo m'an.
Ve.us m'al vostre comandamen,
francs cors umils, gais e cortes
Ors ni leos non etz vos ges
que.m aucizatz, s'a vos me ren.
A Mo Cortes, lai on ilh es,
tramet lo vers, e ja no.lh pes
car n'ai estat tan lonjamen.
English
(It's no wonder that I sing better than any other singer,
for I am the one whose heart is most strongly drawn towards love,
and the most obedient to Love's law.
Heart and body, intellect and instinct,
strength and power, all these have I engaged.
And the bridle steers me so strongly to love that I
pay no attention to anthing else.
When see her, it's visible in my eyes,
my face, my color,
because I tremble with fear like a leaf in the wind.
I have no more sense than a babe,
so dominated am I by love;
and for a man so vanquished,
a lady should have great sollicitude.
Oh, God! If it were only possible
to separate out the true lovers and the false;
and if the flatterers and cheats only wore horns
in the middle of their foreheads.
All the gold in the world, all the silver,
if I had them, I would give them away,
so that my lady could see how truly I love her.
Good Lady, I ask you nothing else but
that you take me as your servant,
so that I could serve you as a good master,
whatever my reward may be.
You see me here at your orders,
you who are honest and humble,
cheerful and courtly.
You are neither a lion nor a bear,
who would kill me if I gave myself to you.
To my Courtly One, where she is, I send this verse, and may it not weigh that am so far distant.)
poem by Bernard de Ventadorn
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Lo gens temps de pascor
Lo gens temps de pascor
ab la frescha verdor
nos adui folh'e flor
de diversa color,
per que tuih amador
son gai e chantador
mas eu, que planh e plor
c'us jois no m'a sabor
a totz me clam, senhor
de midons e d'Amor,
c'aicist dui traïdor,
car me fiav' en lor
me fan viur'a dolor
per ben e per onor
c'ai faih a la gensor,
que no.m val ni.m acor.
Pois fom amdui efan
l'am ades e la blan;
e.s vai m'amors doblan
a chascu jorn del an.
E si no.m fai enan
amor e bel semblan,
cant er velha,.m deman
que l'aya bo talan.
Las! e viure que.m val,
s'eu no vei a jornal
mo fi joi natural
en leih, sotz fenestral,
cors blanc tot atretal
com la neus a nadal,
si c'amdui comunal
mesuram s'em egal?
Be fór'oimais sazos,
bela domna e pros,
que. m fos datz a rescos
en baizan guizardos,
si ja per als no fos,
mas car sui enveyos,
c'us bes val d'autres dos,
can per fors'es faihz dos.
Bel Vezer, si no fos
mos enans totz en vos
laissat agra chansos
per mal dels enoyos.
(The fair season of Easter, with new green, brings us leaves and flowers of various colors, so that all lovers are gay, and sing, except for me, weeping and lamenting, for I taste of no joy. I make my case to you all, gentlefolk, against my lady and Love; for these two traitors, in whom I had trusted, make me live in sorrow, for all the good and honor I have done for the fair one, who neither values nor succors me.
Since the time when we were both children I love and court her. And my love doubles evey day of the year. And if we don't make love now and aren't friendly, she can just try asking later on, when we are old, if I feel like it.
Alas! What is life worth to me, if I cannot see every day my true, natural joy in bed, under the window, her body all white like the Christmas snow, so that in common we can take measure to see if we are equal?
It's the season henceforth, fair and precious lady, that in secret you give me a kiss as recompense, for no other reason than that I desire it. For such a kiss is worth two of the other kind, those that are given by constraint.
Fair-to-See, if my welfare were not entirely dependent on you, I would have left off singing because of the meanness of the bluestockings.
poem by Bernard de Ventadorn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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En cossirer e en esmai
En cossirer et en esmai
sui d'un amor que.m lass'e.m te,
que tan no vau ni sai ni lai
qu'ilh ades no.m tenh' en so fre,
c' aras m'a dat cor e talen
qu' eu enqueses, si podia,
tal que, si.l reis l'enqueria,
auria faih gran ardimen.
Ai las, chaitius! e que.m farai?
ni cal cosselh penrai de me?
Qu'ela no sap lo mal qu'eu trai
ni eu no.lh aus clamar merce.
Fol nesci! ben as pauc de sen,
qu'ela nonca t' amaria
per nom que per drudaria,
c'ans no.t laisses levar al ven!
E doncs, pois atressi.m morrai,
dirai li l'afan que m'en ve?
Vers es c'ades lo li dirai.
no farai, a la mia fe.
si sabia c'a un tenen
en fos tot' Espanha mia;
mais vol morir de feunia
car anc me venc en pessamen.
Pois messatger no.lh trametrai
ni a me dire no.s cove,
negu cosselh de me no sai;
mais d'una re me conort be:
ela sap letras et enten,
et agrada.m qu'eu escria
los motz, e s'a leis plazia,
legis los al meu sauvamen.
(In anguish and torment am I because of a love that grips and holds me so that I can go neither here nor there without her holding me in her harness. And now I have courage and desire to court, if I can, one who, if the King himself were to pursue her, he would show great audacity.
Alas, unhappy one that I am! What shall I do? What counsel shall I take? For she does not know the sorrow that I bear, nor do I dare beg her for mercy. Fool, you have little understanding, since she will never love you, neither in name nor through intimacy. Let yourself be blown away by the wind. And so, since I must die, shall I confess to her my sorrow? Truly, I should do it right away. I won't do it, by my faith, even if I knew that all Spain would be mine. I would rather die of shame than to have entertained such a thought.
Since I shall not send her a messenger, and it is not fitting for me to speak myself, I don't know how to advise myself. But one thing consoles me: she knows the alphabet, and how to read, and I enjoy writing words, and if she pleases, may she read them so that I may be saved.)
poem by Bernard de Ventadorn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Amics Bernart de Ventadorn
Amics Bernartz de Ventadorn,
com vos podetz de chant sofrir,
can aissi auzetz esbaudir
lo rossinholet noih e jorn?
Auyatz lo joi que demena!
Tota noih chanta sotz la flor,
melhs s'enten que vos en amor.
Peire, lo dormir e.l sojorn
am mais que.l rossinhol auvir;
ni ja tan no.m sabriatz dir
que mais en la folia torn.
Deu lau, fors sui de chadena,
e vos e tuih l'autr' amador
etz remazut en la folor.
Bernartz, greu er pros ni cortes
que ab amor no.s sap tener;
ni j tan no.us fara doler
que mai no valha c'autre bes,
car, si fai mal, pois abena.
Greu a om gran be ses dolor;
mas ades vens lo jois lo plor.
Peire, si fos dos ans o tres
lo segles faihz al meu plazer,
de domnas vos dic eu lo ver:
non foran mais preyadas ges,
ans sostengran tan greu pena
qu'elas nos feiran tan d'onor
c'ans nos prejaran que nos lor.
Bernatz, so non es d'avinen
que domnas preyon; ans cove
c'om las prec e lor clam merce;
et es plus fols, mon escien,
que cel qui semn' en l'arena,
qui las blasma ni lor valor;
e mou de mal ensenhador.
Peire, mout ai lo cor dolen,
can d'una faussa me sove,
que m'a mort, e no sai per que,
mas car l'amava finamen.
Faih ai lonja carantena,
e sai, si la fezes lonhorn,
ades la trobara pejor.
Bernartz, foudatz vos amena,
car aissi vos partetz d'amor,
per cui a om pretz e valor.
Peire, qui ama, desena,
car las trichairitz entre lor
an tout joi e pretz e valor.
(- Friend Bernard de Ventadorn, how can you refrain from singing when thus you hear the nightingale rejoicing day and night? Listen to the joy he manifests. Every night he sings under the flowers; he is wiser in the ways of love than you.
- Pierre, I prefer sleep and rest to the nightingale's voice. And you can speak this way to me for a long time before I relapse into folly. God be praised, I am free of the chains, while you and the other lovers remain in folly.
- Bernard, it is difficult to be courtly and successful for him who does not persevere in love. Neither can love cause us such sorrow that it is not worth more than any other good. For if it hurts, later it consoles. It's hard to have a great boon without suffering; but joy conquers tears.
- Pierre, if for two or three years the world were made as I would like, the ladies (I tell you the truth) would no longer be pursued. Instead they would undergo such extreme pain that they would do us the honor of bring suit, rather than us to them.
- Bernard, it is not seeming for women to court, it is rather the man who pursues and asks for mercy. Madder than he who sows in the sand, in my opinion, is he who denigrates their virtue, and such a man is badly educated.
- Pierre, my heart is very sad when I remember that false one who killed me, I know not why, unless it was because I loved her truly. I have long been in quarantine, and if I prolonged it, I would find her worse still.
- Bernard, folly has gained you, for you leave off love, through which one gains worth and valor.
- Pierre, he who loves is mad, for the traitresses among them have undone joy and worth and valor.)
poem by Bernard de Ventadorn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dompna Pois De Me No'us Cal
FROM THE PROVENCAL OF EN BERTRANS DE BORN
Lady, since you care nothing for me,
And since you have shut me away from you
Causelessly,
I know not wnere to go seeking,
For certainly
I will never again gather
Joy so rich, and if I find not ever
A lady with look so speaking
To my desire, worth yours whom I have lost,
I’ll have no other love at any cost.
And since I could not find a peer to you,
Neither one so fair, nor of such heart,
So eager and alert,
Nor with such art
In attire, nor so gay
Nor with gift so bountiful and so true,
I will go out a-searching,
Culling from each a fair trait
To make me a borrowed lady
Till I again find you ready.
Bels Cembelins, I take of you your colour,
For it's your own, and your glance
Where love is,
A proud thing I do here,
For, as to colour and eyes
I shall have missed nothing at all,
Having yours.
I ask of Midons Aelis (of Montfort)
Her straight speech free-running,
That my phantom lack not in cunning,
At Chalais of the Viscountess, I would
That she give me outright
Her two hands and her throat,
So take I my road
To Rochechouart,
Swift-foot to my Lady Anhes,
Seeing that Tristan's lady Iseutz had never
Such grace of locks, I do ye to wit,
Though she'd the far fame for it.
Of Audiart at Malemort,
Though she with a full heart
Wish me ill,
I'd have her form that's laced
So cunningly,
Without blemish, for her love
Breaks not nor turns aside.
I of Miels-de-ben demand
Her straight fresh body,
She is so supple and young,
Her robes can but do her wrong.
Her white teeth, of the Lady Faidita
I ask, and the fine courtesy
She hath to welcome one,
And such replies she lavishes
Within her nest;
Of Bels Mirals, the rest,
Tall stature and gaiety,
To make these avail
She knoweth well, betide
No change nor turning aside.
Ah, Bels Senher, Maent, at last
I ask naught from you,
Save that I have such hunger for
This phantom
As I've for you, such flame-lap,
And yet I'd rather
Ask of you than hold another,
Mayhap, right close and kissed.
Ah, lady, why have you cast
Me out, knowing you hold me so fast!
poem by Ezra Pound
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mercy, my lady! One thing I ask you,
‘Mercy, my lady! One thing I ask you,
As God may bless you, answer me fairly:
When you are dead, and I – for it’s true
After you there can be no life for me –
What of Love, without our company?
For there’s such wisdom and worth in you
And I love so: after us, He’ll not be.’
‘Before God, Thibaut, I judge it true
No one’s death ever killed Love. I see
You mean perhaps to mock me too,
Since you don’t seem wasted much to me.
When we’re dead (Long may our lives be!)
I’m sure Love will suffer a pang or two,
But Love’s worth holds for eternity.’
‘Lady, you mustn’t merely imagine
But know in your heart I love you deeply.
That is why I have put on flesh again,
This joy makes me love myself more dearly:
For God never made a creature so lovely
As you, but it makes me fear that when
We die it will end all Love completely.’
‘Thibaut, silence! No one should begin
A discussion developed so foolishly.
It’s only your means of softening
My heart, when you’ve already beguiled me.
I don’t say I hate you, certainly,
But if Love’s fate’s left for me to sing,
He would still be served honourably.’
‘Lady God grant that you judge aright
And see the ills that you make me suffer:
Since I well know, that if die I might,
Whatever the judgement Love will wither,
If you, Lady, don’t keep him together,
In the place he has always occupied:
To your wisdom aspires no other.’
‘Thibaut, if Love is making you suffer,
For me, don’t regret it, if I love ever,
Mine is a heart that will fail you never.’
poem by Thibaut de Champagne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Forsaking My Love
I hate you
I wish to tear you away from me
This tumor that clings to my chest
The thing that makes me ache
That haunts my dreams
And tears at my desires
You have brought me only pain
My untamed heart
That beast that gnaws at my soul
That pitifully whines
Bringing my mind into unwanted pain
Yet how can I blame you
How can I chastise you when I listen intently to your pleas
Why should I punish you for what my eyes feed upon
How can I blame my eyes for falling upon her
She who brings light to the eternal darkness of my soul
She whose eyes bring me to subjection
Whose smile leaves me in awe
How can I blame you when my ears are met with her laughter
How they submerge into her song
How they quiver at her voice
Why should I punish you for inclining my soul
Tempting it with the one sense that has been forsaken by her
How could I look over the thought of the brushing of lips
The touching of hands
The binding of the soul, mind, and body
O you wretched heart
What am I to do with this constant companion
How could I tear you away
When she is the cause of my agony
Or rather
It is the lack of her which brings me sorrow
It is the need for her that leaves my heart in pain
Yet she is not mine
She was never mine
She will never be mine
O my poor heart
How can I make you see reason
When all you do is show me the truth
love love love love love love love
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love love love love love love love love love
poem by Michael Silver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Toda Pra Voe
Sempre assim, s ns dois, sem deixar pr depois
Esse amor, nunca igual
Cada vez, mais coisa e tal
O tempo nao perdoa e a noite vai
E nunca demais
Isso tao pr mim
Assim eu fico em paz
E que mias eu vou querer
Sou toda pra voc
Sempre assim, sem pensar
Outra vez, me entregar
Respirar, teu calor
Flutuar no teu amor
Teu corpo me estremece de prazar
Faz o mundo desabar
Me faz enlouquecer
Nao d mais eu vou querer
Sou toda pra voc
Quero te amar, pr sempre ser feliz
Sente o coraao que sepre te diz
Nao d mais pr coltar atrs, nunca mais
Sempre assim, sem pensar
Outra vez, me entregar
Respirar, teu calor
Flutuar no tue amor
Teu corpo me estremece de prazar
Faz o mundo desabar
Me faz enlouquecer
Nao d mais pr controlar
O jogo pr valer
E que mais eu vou querer
Sou toda pra voc
Oh, nao nao
Sou toda pra voc, minha vida
Nao nao
Sou toda pra voc, minha vida
Sou toda pra voc
song performed by by Gloria Estefan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lady Lynda
Lady lady lady lady
Wont you come here and lie lady lynda with me
We can lie in the green canyon meadows
And well hear the birds sing in the spring
Dont you know if you;ll stay lady lynda with me
We can talk about love everafter
When you lie lady lynda with me
Lynda, wont you say that we can be near
Cannot deny thereve been hard times
Darlin, evolution is drawing us near
Look in my eyes whoa
Lynda, wont you say that I am your man
Your lips are dry (? ) its all in his past
But darlin, evolution is drawing us near
Lie lady lie
Oooh lady wont you lie lady
Now wont you stay lady lynda with me
We can talk about love everafter
When you lie lady lynda with me
Ohh lady wont you lie lady
Wont you ooh lady wont you stay lady with me
When you lie lady lynda
Come along with me
Ohh lady wont you lie lady
Wont you lie with me
Darlin you know you make my heart sing
Wont you come along and sing a song
Sing the sound of love
Ohh lady wont you lie lady
Wont you lie with me
Darlin your love is like the coming spring
Wont you come along and sing a song
Sing the song my love
Ohh lady wont you lie lady
Wont you lie with me darlin your love is like the coming spring
Wont you come along and sing a song
Sing the song my love
Ohh lady wont you lie lady
Wont you lie with me
Darlin your love is like the coming spring
Wont you come along and sing a song
Sing the song my love
Ooh lady wont you lie lady wont you marry me
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hablame / Talk To Me
Háblame, háblame /Talk to me, talk to me
Se que no queda amor/ I know there's no more love
se congeló el calor / the heat is frozen
sin cuerpos solo adiós / no bodies, just good bye
miradas sin amor / looking without love
Háblame, háblame / Talk to me, talk to ome
Difícil es amar / to love is complicated
tan raro como odiar / that rare like to hate
me odiaste por amor / you hate me because of love
mi amor no es un error / my love is not an error
Háblame, Háblame / Talk to me, Talk to me
Realmente no fue amor / that was no real love
romance y dolor / pain and romance
delirio de cien noches / a hundred nights delirium
enemigos de hoy / enemies today
Háblame, háblame. / Talk to me, Talk to me
poem by Ramiro 2 Burgos
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Little Lady Love
Oh yeah x 5
Chorus
Im little lady love
Ive been touched from above
And you just cant get enough
Of little lady love
Chorus
Im little lady love
Ive been touched from above
And you just cant get enough
Of little lady love
We maybe young
But only for a while
I may look brave
But boy thats just my style
Taken from my teens
But feeding from the tears
Falling with the love
Ive holding back the years
Chorus
Im little lady love
Ive been touched from above
And you just cant get enough
Of little lady love
The miracle of love
Is something Ive observed
And speaking for myself
Is something Ill preserve
Until I feel my way
Along the sticky road
Ill save the miracle
Im gonna take it slow
Chorus
Im little lady love
Ive been touched from above
And you just cant get enough
Of little lady love
Lady love, lady love
Lady love, lady love
Lady love, lady love
Lady love, lady love, love
I think Ive been seperate
Makes it so desperate
I think Ill moderate
Better to wait, its favourite
Chorus
Im little lady love
Ive been touched from above
And you just cant get enough
Of little lady love
Im little lady love
Ive been touched from above
And you just cant get enough
Of little lady love
Lady love, lady love
Ive been touched from above
And you just cant get enough
Of little lady love
Chorus
Im little lady love
Ive been touched from above
And you just cant get enough
Of little lady love
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah x2
song performed by by Sugababes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Send Me Down To Tucson
No one wants to go down to Tucson in the summer
So this time the boss chose me
I've been sort of restless yes he thought it might help if
I got away from my wife and family
There's been no other woman since the mother of my children
And in each and every way she's a lady
Now there's one that I'll remember a sultry night we spent together
And she satisfied the love inside of me
Go on and send me down to Tucson and I'll get the job done
And call up the one whose love is free
She may be easy and I love my lady
But the lady don't satisfy the love inside of me
I know the lady's not to blame cause they raised her prime and proper
While another takes her pleasures where she can
The one in Tucson she don't hide it and when she gets excited
She makes you feel your every inch a man
But if I could have a wish that I knew would be granted
Don't you know that one wish would be
Just to lay beside my lady and she'd be the kind of lady
To satisfy the love inside of me
Go on and send me down to Tucson and I'll get the job done
And call up the one whose love is free
She may be easy and I love my lady
But the lady don't satisfy the love inside of me
Go on and send me down to Tucson and I'll get the job done
Go on and send me down to Tucson and I'll get the job done
song performed by by Mel Tillis, lyrics by Snuff Garrett & Cliff Crofford from Are You Sincere (January 1979)
Submitted by Varmint Tracks
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The Flowers In Her Garden
sosperos de amor
dama de noche
cadena de amor
the longings of love
the lady of the night
the chains of love
and then
she left him
what grows wildly
around are the
amor seco...
she means it, she has no plans of coming back.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Forca
It is the passion flowing right on through your veins
And its the feeling that youre oh so glad you came
It is the moment you remember you're alive
It is the air you breathe, the element, the fire
It is that flower that you took the time to smell
It is the power that you know you got as well
It is the fear inside that you can overcome
This is the orchestra, the rhythm and the drum
Com uma fora, com uma fora
Com uma fora que ninguem pode parar
Com uma fora, com uma fora
Com uma fome que ninguem pode matar
It is the soundtrack of your ever-flowing life
It is the wind beneath your feet that makes you fly
It is the beautiful game that you choose to play
When you step out into the world to start your day
You show your face and take it in and scream and pray
You're gonna win it for yourself and us today
It is the gold, the green, the yellow and the grey
The red and sweat and tears, the love you go. Hey!
Com uma fora, com uma fora
Com uma fora que ninguem pode parar
Com uma fora, com uma fora
Com uma fome que ninguem pode matar
Fora, fora, fora, fora
Closer to the sky, closer, way up high,
Mais perto do cu, mais perto do cu
Com uma fora, com uma fora
Com uma fora que ninguem pode parar
Com uma fora, com uma fora
Com uma fome que ninguem pode matar
...
este amor, este amor,
to grande e to forte
come on
song performed by by Nelly Furtado
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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