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Original lyrics
Quan lo rius de la fontana
Quan lo rius de la fontana
S'esclarzis, si cum far sol,
E par la flors aiglentina,
E'l rossinholetz el ram
Volf e refranh ez aplana
Son dous chantar e l'afina,
Be'ys dregz q'ieu lo mieu refranha.
Amors de terra lonhdana,
Per vos tot lo cors mi dol,
E no'n puesc trobar mezina
Si non al vostre reclam
Ab maltrait d'amor doussana
Dins vergier o part cortina
Ab dezirada compahna.
Pus tot jorns m'en falh aizina,
No'm meravilh si n'ai fam,
Quar anc genser crestiana
Non fo, ni Dieus non o vol,
Juzia ni sarrazina.
Ben es selh paguatz de mana,
Qui de s'amor ren guazanha.
De dezir mos cors no fina
Vas selha res qu'ieu pus am,
E cre que'l voler m'enguana
Si cobezeza la'm tol;
Que pus es ponhens d'espina
La dolors que per joy sana,
Don ja no vuelh qu'om m'en planha.
Quan pensar m'en fai aizina
adonc la bays e la col,
mas pueys torn en revolina
perqu'em n'espert e n'aflam,
quar so que floris non grana.
Lo joys que mi n'ataina
tot mos cujatz afaitanha.
Senes breu de parguamina
Tramet lo vers en cantan
En plana lengua romana,
A'N Ugo Bru per Filhol.
Bo'm sap quar gent peitavina
De Berri e de Guizana
S'esjau per lieys e'n Bretanha
SaintMarkTranslation
When the rill of the source
When the rill of the source
turns clear, as is its habit
and the dogrose blossoms
and the nightingale on the bough
performs and repeats and smoothens
and improves its sweet song,
it is time I take mine up again.
Love of a distant land,
for your sake all my heart aches
and I can't find a remedy
(unless it is your name's reverberation)
to the ill of lacking sweet love,
in the garden and behind the curtain,
of a longed-for companion.
Since I don't get a chance all day
it is no wonder I crave for it
because a prettier Christian
never was nor--god forbids it--
a Jewish or Saracen woman.
He is well paid in manna
he who gains some of her love.
My heart desires incessantly
her whom I love the most,
and I believe my will deceives me
since lust takes her off from me;
it is more stinging than a thorn
the pain which joy heals,
so I don't want anyone to pity me.
When I have time to fantasize about her
then I kiss and hug her;
but then I twist and turn
because it frustrates and fires me
that the flower doesn't give fruit.
The joy which torments me
abates all my pride.
Without a parchment scroll
I send this poem, singing
in plain Romance language,
to Ugo Bru, through Filhol.
I am happy that people from Poitiers,
Berry and Guyana
are gladdened by her: and the Bretons likewise.
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Jaufre Rudel: Top 3
| 1. | Lanquan li jorn son lonc e may |
| 2. | Quan lo rius de la fontana |
| 3. | Lanqan li jorn son long en mai |
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About translator
His brother's name was Jubal; he was the father of all
who play stringed instruments and pipes. (Genesis 4:21)