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67. Balade: «Ma seule amour, en quelque lieu que je soye»







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67. Balade: «Ma seule amour, en quelque lieu que je soye»

Mes yeulx sont plains d’ennuy et de tristesse
Et de souspirs qui font mon cuer doloir.
Ne si ne sçay se jamais ma maistresse
Par sa doulçour tournera son vouloir
A m’alegier le mal que, main et soir,
Me destraint si qu’il n’est un seul plaisir
Qui soit en moy, fors qu’a mon dormir,
Je cuidoye veir des yeux de ma pensee
Son beau corps gent. Dont ma paine est doublee
A resveillier, quant il n’en est neant,
Dont je reçoy, certes, de douleur tant.
Car il n’est riens qui me peust donner joye,
Quant ne vous voy assez plus que souvent,
Ma seule amour, en quelque lieu que je soye.

Si sçay je bien que ma dure destresse
Ne me laira un seul bien recevoir
Jusques alors que verray a largesse
Voz tresbeaux yeulx, car je sçay de voir
Que sanz cela je ne puis joye avoir.
Savez pourquoy? C’est mon joyeux desir,
C’est tout mon bien, mon plaisant souvenir,
C’est mon confort, c’est ma joye celee,
C’est mon espoir par qui sera cessee
Ma dure paine, qui dure longuement
Si ne vous plaist que bien prouchainement
Fine le dueil qui en larmes me noye,
Car mon mal fault qui ne croit tant ne quant,
Ma seule amour, en quelque lieu que je soye.

Ma souveraine, qui toutes autres passe,
Avant mouroye que jamais amasse
Autre que vous, journee ne demie.
Car mieulx vouldroye par vous perdre la vie
Que recevoir de tous biens a monjoye,
En esperance que ne m’oubliez mie,
Ma seule amour, en quelque lieu que je soye.
 
67. Ballade: “My only love, in whatever place I be”

My eyes are full of distress and sadness
And of sighs that cause my heart to grieve.
And yet I do not know if my mistress
Will ever, out of gentleness, turn her will
To relieving the pain that, morning and night,
Constrains me such that there is not a single pleasure
That remains in me, except that, in my sleep,
I would think that I saw with the eyes of my mind
Her fair sweet self. Then my pain is doubled
On awakening, when there is nothing to it,
For which I receive, surely, so much sorrow.
For there is nothing that can give me joy
When I do not see you much more than often,
My only love, in whatever place I be.

Thus I know well that my harsh distress
Will not allow me to receive a single good
Until I see abundantly
Your beautiful eyes, for I know in truth
That without that, I can have no joy.
Do you know why? It is my joyous desire;
It is all my good, my pleasing memory;
It is my comfort; it is my hidden joy;
It is my hope, by which will be brought to an end
My harsh pain, which lasts a long time
If it doesn’t please you that very soon
Ends the grief that drowns me in tears.
For my pain lacks that does not grow and grow,
My only love, in whatever place I be.

My sovereign, who surpasses all other women,
I would die before I would ever love
Anyone but you, for a day or a half,
For I would rather lose my life through you
Than to receive an abundance of all goods,
In the hope that you do not forget me ever,
My only love, in whatever place I be.
 
 







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