Carlo Martello ritorna dalla battaglia di Poitiers (English translation)

Charles Martel Returns from the Battle of Poitiers

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King Charles was returning from the war.
His land welcomes him,
crowning him with a laurel.
 
In the hot spring sun
flashes the suit of armor
of the victorious Sire.
 
The blood of the prince and the Moor
redden the crest,
of identical color.
 
But more than the wounds of the body,
Charles felt
the yearning for love.
 
“If eagerness for glory and a thirst for honor
extinguish war for the victor,
it allows you not a moment to pursue love.
 
"One, then, who imposes on the gentle wife
the chastity belt - alas it is heavy -
in battle can run the risk of losing the key.”
 
Thus complains the Christian king.
The grain bows down and
flowers gather about.
 
The mirror of the clear fountain
reflects, proud in his saddle,
the victor of the Moors.
 
When here in the water is formed,
marvelous vision,
the symbol of love -
 
in the fullness of the long blond braids
the breast intermingles,
naked in broad daylight.
 
“Never was seen something more beautiful,
never did I catch such a maid,”
said King Charles, dismounting quickly from his saddle.
 
“But oh, Knight, come no closer,
that which you seek is already the joy of another.
Quench your thirst from some easier spring.”
 
Surprised by a response so sharp,
feeling put down,
King Charles stopped.
 
But greater than honor was the power of abstinence.
Trembling, his brown helm
the King lifted off.
 
This was the secret weapon
by Charles often used
in dire straights -
 
to the woman appeared a big nose
and the face of a goat,
but it was her majesty.
 
“If you were not my sovereign,” -
Charles takes off his heavy sword -
“I wouldn’t conceal the desire to run far away."
 
"But since you are my Lord,” -
Charles frees himself from the prison of his armor -
“I must give myself over bare to every shame.”
 
He was indeed a valiant knight,
and even at that juncture
was covered again with honor.
 
And, conjoined at the end of the duel,
uncertain, the saddle
he tried to remount.
 
Quickly the maiden harpooned him.
Suddenly a bill
she presents to her Lord.
 
“Ah, just because you are my Lord,
it’s five thousand lira,
a special price.”
 
“It’s ever possible, son of a bitch,
that the adventures in this realm
should all end up with big whores.
 
"Even the price, then, can be criticized.
I remember well that before I left
there were lower prices of three thousand lira.”
 
Thus spoken, he acted like a scoundrel -
with the leap of a lion
he mounted his steed.
 
Whipping the horse as if it were a donkey,
through the wisteria and elderberries
the king disappeared.
 
King Charles returned from the war.
His land welcomes him,
crowning him with a laurel.
 
In the hot spring sun
flashes the suit of armor
of the victorious Sire.
 
Submitted by LobolyrixLobolyrix on Wed, 11/01/2017 - 15:33
ItalianItalian

Carlo Martello ritorna dalla battaglia di Poitiers

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