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27. Balade amoreuse: «Car vrayement ce martelé me tue»







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 		 27. Balade amoreuse: «Car vrayement ce martelé me tue»

En mon cuer a une enclume plantee
Qu’Amours y fit doulcement y entrer.
La vient Desir, sans nulle demouree,
Qui tient en mains le mail de souspirer,
Et Doulx Espoir y vyent avec Panser.
Ferant, maillant, chascun fort s’esvertue.
Languir me fault ou a la mort aler,
Car vrayement ce martelé me tue.

Celle enclume qu’en mon cuer est entee,
C’est le cler vis de ma dame honnorer;
Et sez doulx yeulx, toute jour ajournee,
Soufflent le feu pour le fort eschauffer.
Et puis Beaulté vient avec marteler,
Et Doulz Plaisir, qui trestous lez esmue.
Languir me fault ou a la mort aler,
Car vrayement ce martelé me tue.

J’ay veu ouvriers qui, depuis la vespree
Jusque au matin, guerpissoient leur ouvrer,
Mais trestousjours Souvenir et Pensee,
Martelent fort; n’ont cure d’arrester.
Et se Pitié ne leur vient dire a cler:
«Leissez l’ouvrer, car la feste est venue»,
Languir me fault ou a la mort aler,
Car vrayement ce martelé me tue.
 		 27. Love Ballade: “For honestly, this hammering’s killing me”

Within my heart there is an anvil placed
Which Love caused softly to enter there.
There comes Desire, without any delay,
Which holds in its hand the hammer of sighing,
And then Sweet Hope comes, along with Thought.
Pounding, hammering, each one labors strongly.
I must languish or go to my death,
For honestly, this hammering’s killing me.

This anvil that is placed within my heart,
It is to honor the bright face of my lady.
And her sweet eyes, all day every day,
Fan the flame in order to make it hotter.
And then Beauty comes with its hammer,
And Sweet Pleasure, which excites them all.
I must languish or go to my death,
For honestly, this hammering’s killing me.

I have seen workers who, from evening
Until morning, set aside their work,
But constantly do Memory and Thought
Pound strongly; they have no wish to stop.
And if Pity doesn’t come to tell them clearly
“Leave off work, for the holiday is here,”
I must languish or go to my death,
For honestly, this hammering’s killing me.
 




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