This would make her an exact or close contemporary of Thais, beautiful
Athenian
courtesan and mistress of Alexander the Great (356-323BC).
Villon
Poetry in
Translation
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Francois Villon
Poems
Francois Villon
'Francois Villon'
Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern (p329, 1902)
LACMA Collections
Home Download
Translated by A. S. Kline (C) Copyright 2004 All Rights Reserved
This work may be freely reproduced, stored, and transmitted, electronically or otherwise, for any non-commercial purpose.
Contents
Le Testament: Ballade Des Dames Du Temps Jadis
Le Testament: Les Regrets De La Belle Heaulmiere
Le Testament: Ballade: 'Item: Donne A Ma Povre Mere'
Le Testament: Ballade: A S'amye
Le Testament: Ballade: Pour Robert d'Estouteville
Le Testament: Rondeau
Le Testament: Epitaph et Rondeau
Ballade: Du Concours De Blois
Ballade: Epistre
L'Epitaphe Villon: Ballade Des Pendus
Index of First Lines
Le Testament: Ballade Des Dames Du Temps Jadis
Tell me where, or in what country
Is Flora, the lovely Roman,
Archipiades or Thais,
Who was her nearest cousin,
Echo answering, at clap of hand,
Over the river, and the meadow,
Whose beauty was more than human?
Oh, where is last year's snow?
Where is that wise girl Eloise,
For whom was gelded, to his great shame,
Peter Abelard, at Saint Denis,
For love of her enduring pain,
And where now is that queen again,
Who commanded them to throw
Buridan in a sack, in the Seine?
Oh, where is last year's snow?
Queen Blanche of the Siren's voice
White as a swan, and Alice, say,
Bertha Big-Foot and Beatrice,
Arembourg, ruler of Maine,
Or Jeanne d'Arc of Lorraine,
The English burned at Rouen? Oh,
Where are they Virgin, you who reign?
Oh, where is last year's snow?
Prince, don't ask of me again
Where they are, this year or no,
I have only this last refrain:
Oh, where is last year's snow?
Note: Dante Gabriel Rossetti took Archipiades to be Hipparchia (see Diogenes Laertius, Lives of the Philosophers, Book VI 96-98) who loved Crates the Theban Cynic philosopher (368/5-288/5BC) and of whom various tales are told suggesting her beauty, and independence of mind. This would make her an exact or close contemporary of Thais, beautiful Athenian courtesan and mistress of Alexander the Great (356-323BC). Villon presumably means that they were 'near cousins' in spirit.
Saint Thais of Alexandria
'Saint Thais of Alexandria'
Boetius Adamsz.
This would make her an exact or close contemporary of Thais, beautiful Athenian courtesan and mistress of Alexander the Great (356-323BC). Villon presumably means that they were 'near cousins' in spirit.
Saint Thais of Alexandria
'Saint Thais of Alexandria'
Boetius Adamsz. Bolswert, Abraham Bloemaert, Anonymous, 1590 - 1662
The Rijksmuseum
Le Testament: Les Regrets De La Belle Heaulmiere
By chance, I heard the belle complain,
The one we called the Armouress,
Longing to be a girl again,
Talking like this, more or less:
'Oh, old age, proud in wickedness,
You've battered me so, and why?
Who cares, who, for my distress,
Or whether at all your blows I die?
You've stolen away that great power
My beauty ordained for me
Over priests and clerks, my hour,
When never a man I'd see
Would fail to offer his all in fee,
Whatever remorse he'd later show,
But what was abandoned readily,
Beggars now scorn to know.
Many a man I then refused -
Which wasn't wise of me, no jest -
For love of a boy, cunning too,
To whom I gave all my largesse.
I feigned to him unwillingness,
But, by my soul, I loved him bad.
What he showed was his roughness,
Loving me only for what I had.
He could drag me through the dirt,
Trample me underfoot, I'd love him,
Break my back, whatever's worse,
If only he'd ask for a kiss again,
I'd soon forget then every pain.
A glutton, full of what he could win,
He'd embrace me - with him I've lain.
What's he left me? Shame and sin.
Now he's dead, these thirty years:
And I live on, old, and grey.
When I think of those times, with tears,
What I was, what I am today,
View myself naked: turn at bay,
Seeing what I am no longer,
Poor, dry, meagre, worn away,
I almost forget myself in anger.
Where's my smooth brow gone:
My arching lashes, yellow hair,
Wide-eyed glances, pretty ones,
That took in the cleverest there:
Nose not too big or small: a pair
Of delicate little ears, the chin
Dimpled: a face oval and fair,
Lovely lips with crimson skin?
Translation
HOME NEWS ABOUT LINKS CONTACT SEARCH
Francois Villon
Poems
Francois Villon
'Francois Villon'
Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern (p329, 1902)
LACMA Collections
Home Download
Translated by A. S. Kline (C) Copyright 2004 All Rights Reserved
This work may be freely reproduced, stored, and transmitted, electronically or otherwise, for any non-commercial purpose.
Contents
Le Testament: Ballade Des Dames Du Temps Jadis
Le Testament: Les Regrets De La Belle Heaulmiere
Le Testament: Ballade: 'Item: Donne A Ma Povre Mere'
Le Testament: Ballade: A S'amye
Le Testament: Ballade: Pour Robert d'Estouteville
Le Testament: Rondeau
Le Testament: Epitaph et Rondeau
Ballade: Du Concours De Blois
Ballade: Epistre
L'Epitaphe Villon: Ballade Des Pendus
Index of First Lines
Le Testament: Ballade Des Dames Du Temps Jadis
Tell me where, or in what country
Is Flora, the lovely Roman,
Archipiades or Thais,
Who was her nearest cousin,
Echo answering, at clap of hand,
Over the river, and the meadow,
Whose beauty was more than human?
Oh, where is last year's snow?
Where is that wise girl Eloise,
For whom was gelded, to his great shame,
Peter Abelard, at Saint Denis,
For love of her enduring pain,
And where now is that queen again,
Who commanded them to throw
Buridan in a sack, in the Seine?
Oh, where is last year's snow?
Queen Blanche of the Siren's voice
White as a swan, and Alice, say,
Bertha Big-Foot and Beatrice,
Arembourg, ruler of Maine,
Or Jeanne d'Arc of Lorraine,
The English burned at Rouen? Oh,
Where are they Virgin, you who reign?
Oh, where is last year's snow?
Prince, don't ask of me again
Where they are, this year or no,
I have only this last refrain:
Oh, where is last year's snow?
Note: Dante Gabriel Rossetti took Archipiades to be Hipparchia (see Diogenes Laertius, Lives of the Philosophers, Book VI 96-98) who loved Crates the Theban Cynic philosopher (368/5-288/5BC) and of whom various tales are told suggesting her beauty, and independence of mind. This would make her an exact or close contemporary of Thais, beautiful Athenian courtesan and mistress of Alexander the Great (356-323BC). Villon presumably means that they were 'near cousins' in spirit.
Saint Thais of Alexandria
'Saint Thais of Alexandria'
Boetius Adamsz.
This would make her an exact or close contemporary of Thais, beautiful Athenian courtesan and mistress of Alexander the Great (356-323BC). Villon presumably means that they were 'near cousins' in spirit.
Saint Thais of Alexandria
'Saint Thais of Alexandria'
Boetius Adamsz. Bolswert, Abraham Bloemaert, Anonymous, 1590 - 1662
The Rijksmuseum
Le Testament: Les Regrets De La Belle Heaulmiere
By chance, I heard the belle complain,
The one we called the Armouress,
Longing to be a girl again,
Talking like this, more or less:
'Oh, old age, proud in wickedness,
You've battered me so, and why?
Who cares, who, for my distress,
Or whether at all your blows I die?
You've stolen away that great power
My beauty ordained for me
Over priests and clerks, my hour,
When never a man I'd see
Would fail to offer his all in fee,
Whatever remorse he'd later show,
But what was abandoned readily,
Beggars now scorn to know.
Many a man I then refused -
Which wasn't wise of me, no jest -
For love of a boy, cunning too,
To whom I gave all my largesse.
I feigned to him unwillingness,
But, by my soul, I loved him bad.
What he showed was his roughness,
Loving me only for what I had.
He could drag me through the dirt,
Trample me underfoot, I'd love him,
Break my back, whatever's worse,
If only he'd ask for a kiss again,
I'd soon forget then every pain.
A glutton, full of what he could win,
He'd embrace me - with him I've lain.
What's he left me? Shame and sin.
Now he's dead, these thirty years:
And I live on, old, and grey.
When I think of those times, with tears,
What I was, what I am today,
View myself naked: turn at bay,
Seeing what I am no longer,
Poor, dry, meagre, worn away,
I almost forget myself in anger.
Where's my smooth brow gone:
My arching lashes, yellow hair,
Wide-eyed glances, pretty ones,
That took in the cleverest there:
Nose not too big or small: a pair
Of delicate little ears, the chin
Dimpled: a face oval and fair,
Lovely lips with crimson skin?
