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Can vei la lauzeta mover

Can vei la lauzeta mover
de joi sas alas contra.l rai,
que s’oblid’ e.s laissa chazer
per la doussor c’al cor li vai,
ai! tan grans enveya m’en ve
de cui qu’eu veya jauzion,
meravilhas ai, car desse
lo cor de desirer no.m fon.

De las domnas me desesper
ja mais en lor no.m fiarai;
c’aissi com las solh chaptener,
enaissi las deschaptenrai.
Pois vei c’una pro no m’en te
vas leis que.m destrui e.m cofon
totas las dopt’e las mescre,
car be sai c’atretals se son.

Merces es perduda, per ver,
Et eu non o saubi anc mai,
Car cilh qui plus en degr’aver,
No.n a ges, et on la querrai
A can mal sembla, qui la ve,
Qued aquest chaitiu deziron
Que ja ses leis non aura be,
Laisse morrir, que no l.aon

Tristans, ges no.n auretz de me,
Qu’eu m’en vau, chaitius, no sai on.
De chantar me gic e.m recre,
E de joi e d’amor m’escon .


When I see the lark beating his wings
for joy against the sun's ray,
until he forgets to fly and swoops down,
for the sheer joy which goes to his heart,
alas, such great envy comes to me
of those whom I see filled with happiness,
and I marvel that my heart
does not instantly melt from desire.

Of women I despair;
I shall never trust them again.
As once I exalted them,
now shall I condemn them.
Since I see that not one of them is for me
against she who is destroying and ruining me,
I doubt and mistrust them all,
since I know they are all the same.

Mercy is lost, in truth,
and I never received any,
for she who should possess it most
has none, so where else shall I seek it?
Ah, anyone who sees her would hardly guess
that she would leave this passionate wretch
who will have no good without her
to die, and gives no aid.

Tristan, you will hear nothing more from me,
for I am going, wretched, I don't know where.
I’m stopping singing,
and will withdraw from joy and love.


Menino Jesus á Lappa

Menino Jesus á Lappa
do coração da me da vossa merenda
qu’o meu menino não tem pão.

Era inda pequenina
acabava de nascer.

Menino Jesus á Lappa
do coração da me da vossa merenda
qu’o meu menino não tem pão.

Vamos dar as boas festa
festas de muita alegria
ja nasceu o Deus menino
filho da Virgem Maria.

Gloria nacelsis que tão Linda luz
nasceu em Belem o m’ino Jesus.

Nossa Senhora faz meia
com linho feito de luz
o Linda rosa com linho feito de luz.


Christ Child of the Cave,
give me some of your food, of your goodness,
for my little one has no bread.

I was still little,
I had just been born.

Christ Child of the Cave,
give me some of your food, of your goodness,
for my little one has no bread.

Let’s go and celebrate,
the feast of great joy;
The Christ Child is born,
Son of the Virgin Mary.

Glory in the highest, for such a beauteous light
has been born in Bethlehem, the Baby Jesus.

Our Lady sews stockings
with flax made of light;
O lovely Rose with flax made of light.

[Translation: Ivan Moody]



Man in the Moon

Mon in the mone stond and strit;
on his botforke his burthen he bereth.
It is muche wonder that he na doun slyt;
for doute leste he valle he shoddreth ant shereth.
When the forst freseth muche chele he byd.
The thornes beth kene, his hattren to tereth.
Nis no wyght in the world that wot wen he syt,
ne bote it be the hegge, whet wedes he wereth.
Whider trowe this mon ha the wey take?
He hath set his o fot his other toforen,
for non highte that he hath ne syght me hym ner shake;
he is the sloweste mon that euer wes yboren.


Corpus Christi

Lully lully lully lullay
The falcon hath borne my make away

He bear him up, he bear him down
He bear him into an orchard brown
And in that orchard there was an hall
That was hanged with purple and pall
And in that hall there was a bed
And it was hanged with gold so red
And in that bed there lieth a knight
His woundes bleeding day and night

By that bedside there kneeleth a may
And she weepeth night and day

And by that bedside standeth a stone
Corpus Christi written thereon.


Swart smeked smethes

Swart smeked smethes, smattered with smoke,
drive me to deth with din of their dintes.
Swich nois on nightes ne heard men never,
what knavene cry and clattering of knockes.
The cammede kongons cryen after “Col! col!”
and blowen their bellewes that al their brain brestes.
“Huf, puf”, saith that one, “haf, paf”, that other.
They spitten and sprawlen and spellen many spelles
they gnawen and gnacken, they grones togidere,
and holden them hot with their hard hammers.

Of a bole hide ben their barm felles,
their shankes ben shackled for the fere flunderes.
Hevy hammers they han that hard ben handled,
stark strokes they striken on a steled stocke.
‘Lus, bus, las, das!’ rowten by rowe.
Swiche dolful a dreme the devil it to drive.

The maister longeth a litil and lasheth a lesse,
twineth them twein and toucheth a treble.
‘Tik, tak, tik tak!’ Swich lif they leden,
alle clothemeres, Crist them give sorwe!

May no man for brenwaters on night han his rest.


Fumeux fume

Fumeux fume par fumee,
fumeuse speculacion.
Qu’antre fummet sa pensee
fumeux fume par fumee.

Quar fumer molt li agree
tant qu'il ait son entencion.
Fumeux fume par fumee,
fumeuse speculacion.


Smokey, scented smoke,
smokey speculation.
Let another send his thought up in smoke,
smokey, scented smoke.

For smoking pleases one greatly
so long as it hold ones attention.
Smokey, scented smoke,
smokey speculation.



Hortus ignotus

If I sit in my garden
there I see a manne
manne he sang
come
come away

she sits
and stares

if you come
into my garden
into
my
garden
I will show you
the worlde


I sing of a maiden

I sing of a maiden that is makeless;
king of all kings, to her sonne she chess.
He came all so stille where his moder was,
as dew in Aprille that falleth on the grass.
He came all so stille to his moder’s bower
as dew in Aprille that falleth on the flower.
He came all so stille where his moder lay,
as dew in Aprille that falleth on the spray.

Moder and maiden was never none but she:
well may such a lady goddes moder be.

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