ATRESSI CO·L SIGNES FAI (Old Occitan)
Peirol d'Auvernha (~1160 – 1225)
1 Atressi co·l signes fai
Quant vol morir, chan,
Quar sai que genseis morrai
Et ab mens d'afan.
Ben m'a amors tengut el latz
E mainz trebaills n'ai sofertatz,
Mas pel dan c'aora m'en ve
Conosc qu'ancmais non amei be.
2 E doncs qual conseill penrai
S'aissi muer aman
Qu'ieu joi non aten de lai
On miei sospir van!
Pero non part ma voluntatz,
Si tot n'estauc desesperatz.
Pensiu e consiros mi te
Cella de cui plus mi sove.
3 El mon tal domna non sai.
Dieus, per que l'am tan
Que ja non li ausarai
Dire mon talan.
Gen m'acuoill e·m fai bel solatz,
Mais del plus son desconseillatz,
Car, s'ieu li clamava merce,
Tem que puois se guardes de me.
4 Preiars, lai on non s'eschai,
Torn' en enuey gran.
Ses parlar la preiarai.
E com ab semblan,
Et ill conosca o si·l platz.
Car aissi dobla·l jois e·l gratz
Quant us cors ab autre s'ave,
E quant hom ses querre fai be.
5 Franquez' ab fin cor verai
Trai amor enan!
Autz paratges la deschai,
Que.ll ric son truan,
Que tan n'i a de rics malvatz
Per que·l segles n'es sordeiatz.
E domna, que bon pretz mante,
Non am per ricor, s'als no i ve.
6 Chansoneta, vai t'en lai,
Non ges q'ieu re·il man,
Mas ben li potz mon esmai
Dire ses mon dan.
Digatz li c'a leis es donatz
Mos coratges et autreiatz!
Sieus son e sieus serai jase!
Morir puosc per ma bona fe.
Bona domna, on que siatz,
Jois si' ab vos e joi aiatz,
Qu'eu non vos aus clamar merce
Mas sivals pensar o puosc be. | AS DOES THE SWAN
(Literal translation by yours truly)
1 As does the swan
When it's about to die, I sing,
For I know I'll die more sweetly
And with less pain.
Love held me well in its snares
And I suffered many torments,
But from the pain I feel now
I know that I never loved well.
2 So, what guidance will I take
If I die of love,
For I expect no joy from where
My sighs go!
Nevertheless, I never parted from my desire
Even if I'm in despair.
She keeps me pensive and worried,
She whom I remember/(think of) most.
3 In the world I know no such dame/lady,
God, why do I love her so?
I'll never dare
To tell her my desire.
She receives me nicely and keeps me fine company
But more is advised against,
For, if I sought mercy of her,
I fear that she would then be wary of me.
4 Prayers where one has no chance
Become tiresome.
Without speaking I'll plead her
And how? With my look
And she'll understand if it pleases her to.
For joy and pleasure double
When a heart agrees with another
And when, without seeking it, one does good.
5 Frankness with true and fine heart
Draw love forwards!
High birth takes it down
For nobles are villains,
As there are so many rich scoundrels
That the world is debased
And a dame/lady who keeps her good worth
Doesn't love for riches if she sees nothing else.
6 Little song, go away there,
Not because I send her nothing,
But you can well tell her my turmoil
Without revealing my pain.
Tell her that my heart is
Granted and conceded to her.
I'm hers and always will be hers!
I can die because of my good faith!
Good dame/lady, wherever you may be,
Joy be with you and joy may you have;
I do not dare to claim your mercy,
But at least I can think of doing so. |