Bernard de Ventadour - non es meravelha s'eu chan (English translation)

Occitan

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
E 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.
 
Ben es mortz qui d'amor no sen
Al cor cal que dousa sabor!
E que val viure ses amor
Mas per enoi far a la gen
Ja Domnedeus no.m azir tan
Qu'eu ja pois viva jorn ni mes.
Pois que d'enoi serai mespres
Ni d'amor non aurai talan .
 
Per bona fe e ses enjan
Am la plus bel' e la melhor.
Del cor sospir e dels olhs plor,
Car tan l'am eu, per que i ai dan.
Eu que.n posc mais, s'Amors me pren,
E las charcers en que m'a mes,
No pot claus obrir mas merces,
E de merce no.i trop nien
 
Aquest' amors me fer tan gen
Al cor d'una dousa sabor:
Cen vetz mor lo jorn de dolor
E reviu de joi autras cen.
Ben es mos mals de bel semblan,
Que mais val mos mals qu'autre bes!
E pois mos mals aitan bos m'es,
Bos er lo bes apres l'afan .
 
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.
 
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.
 
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
 
Submitted by SaintMark on Mon, 25/07/2016 - 14:03
Last edited by SaintMark on Thu, 13/10/2016 - 22:37
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English translation

It is no marvel if I sing

It is no marvel if I sing
Better than any other singer,
For my heart draws me more toward love
And I'm better suited to its command.
Heart and body and knowledge and sense
And force and power I've placed in it;
The rein so draws me toward love
That I don't strive toward any other direction.
 
He's thoroughly dead who does not feel of love
Some sweet savor in his heart;
And what's it worth to live without valor
Except to make annoyance to people?
May God never hate me so much
That I ever live a day or month longer,
Once I'll be guilty of annoyance
Or I don't have a taste for love.
 
With good faith and without deceit
I love the most beautiful and the best.
From my heart I sigh and from my eyes I cry,
For so much I love her, I have harm in it.
What more can I do, if love takes me
And the prison in which it places me,
No key can open except mercy,
And I find no mercy at all in it?
 
This love strikes me so gently
In my heart with a sweet savor:
I die a hundred times a day from grief
And I revive with joy another hundred.
My evil is certainly of fair appearance,
And my evil is worth more than another good;
And since my evil is so much good to me,
Good will be my good after my trouble.
 
Ai God! that they should be recognizable
From among the false the true lovers,
And the liars and deceivers
Should wear horns upon their foreheads!
All the world's gold and all the silver
I'd have liked to have given for this, if I'd had it,
If only my lady should have known
Just how truly I love her.
 
When I see her, indeed it's apparent in me
From my eyes, my face, my color,
For I tremble so with fear
As does the leaf in the wind.
I don't have enough sense for a child,
So much I am seized by love ;
And for a man that's conquered thus,
A lady can have great pity.
 
Good lady, I demand no more of you
But that you take me as servant,
For I shall serve you as a good lord,
However to me comes reward.
Behold me at your command,
Sincere humble heart, gay and courtly!
A bear or lion you're not at all,
That you should kill me if I surrender to you.
 
To my Cortes, there where she is,
I send my verse, and never may it trouble her
That I have been away from her so long
 
Submitted by SaintMark on Mon, 06/11/2017 - 19:31
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