Without
parchment
brief, I bestow
On Filhol the verses I sing now,
In the plain Romance tongue, that he
May take them to Uc le Brun, anew.
On Filhol the verses I sing now,
In the plain Romance tongue, that he
May take them to Uc le Brun, anew.
Troubador Verse
Sad, in pain, would I go away,
Should I not see that love afar.
For I don't know when I may
See her, the distance is so far.
So many the roads and ways lower,
That indeed I can say no more,
But let all things be as she likes.
The delights of love I never may
Enjoy, if not joy of my love afar,
No finer, nobler comes my way,
From any quarter: near or far.
So rich and high is her dower,
That there in the Saracen's tower
For her sake I would be their prize.
God that made all that goes or stays
And formed this love from afar
Grant me the power to hope one day
I'll see this love of mine afar,
Truly, and in a pleasant hour,
So that her chamber and her bower,
Might seem a palace to my eyes.
Who calls me covetous, truth to say,
Is right, I long for a love afar,
For no other joy pleases me today
Like the joy in my love from afar.
Yet what I wish is not in my power,
It is my godfather's curse, so sour,
That I love, yet love should be denied.
For what I wish is not in my power,
Cursed my godfather's word so sour,
Who has ruled my love should be denied.
Quan lo rius de la fontana
When the sweet fountain's stream
Runs clear, as it used to do,
And there the wild-roses blow,
And the nightingale, on the bough,
Turns and polishes, and makes gleam
His sweet song, and refines its flow,
It's time I polished mine, it would seem.
Oh my love, from a land afar,
My whole heart aches for you;
No cure can I find, for this no
Help but your call, I vow,
With love's pangs sweetest by far,
In a curtained room or meadow,
Where I and the loved companion are.
I shall lack that forever though,
So no wonder at my hunger now;
For never did Christian lady seem
Fairer - nor would God wish her to -
Nor Jewess nor Saracen below.
With manna he's fed as if in dream,
Who of her love should win a gleam!
No end to desire will my heart know
For her, whom I love most, I vow;
I fear lest my will should cheat me,
If lust were to steal her from me too.
For sharper than thorns this pain and woe
The sadness that joy heals swiftly,
For which I want no man's pity.
Without parchment brief, I bestow
On Filhol the verses I sing now,
In the plain Romance tongue, that he
May take them to Uc le Brun, anew.
They rejoice in it, I'm pleased to know,
In Poitou, and in Berry,
In Guyenne, and Brittany.
Note: Uc le Brun is Uc VII of Lusignan, who had taken the cross for the Second Crusade in 1147. Filhol is the name of the joglar (jongleur, or minstrel)
No sap chanter qui so no di
No one can sing where no melody is,
Or fashion verse with words unclear,
Or know how the rhymes should appear,
If his logic inwardly goes amiss;
But my own song begins like this:
My song gets better, the more you hear.
Let no man wonder about me,
If I love one I've never known,
My heart joys in one love alone,
That of one who'll never know me;
No greater joy do I welcome gladly,
Yet I know not what good it may be.
I am struck by a joy that kills me,
And pangs of love that so ravish
All my flesh, body will perish;
Never before did I so fiercely
Suffer like this, and so languish,
Which is scarce fitting or seemly.
How often do I close my eyes
And know my spirit is fled afar;
Never such sadness that my heart
Is far from where my lover lies;
Yet when the clouds of morning part,
How swiftly all my pleasure flies.
I know I've never had joy of her,
Never will she have joy of me,
Nor promise herself, nor will she
Ever now take me as her lover;
No truth or lie does she utter,
To me: and so it may ever be.
The verse is good, I have not failed,
All that is in it is well placed;
He whose lips it may chance to grace,
Take care it's not hacked or curtailed
When Bertran in Quercy's assailed,
Or, at Toulouse, the Count you face.
The verse is good, and they'll be hailed
For something they'll do in that place.
Marcabru (fl. 1130-1150)
Marcabru was a powerful influence on later poets who adopted the trobar clus style. He experimented, as here, with the pastorela. Among his patrons were William X of Aquitaine and, probably, Alfonso VII of Leon. Marcabru may have travelled to Spain in the entourage of Alfonso Jordan, Count of Toulouse, in the 1130s. In the 1140s he was a propagandist for the Reconquista, of Spain from the Moors.