Qu’en terre n’a element
Ne planette en firmament
Qui de pleur don
Ne me face et sans raison
Mon cuer dolent;
Et Fortune m’a dou vent
D’un torbillon
Tumé jus de sa maison
En fondement.

II
Et si ne m’a que d’un oueil
Resgardé,
Mais tant grevé,
Se Diex me gart,
M’a de son demi regart
Que trop m’en dueil
Qu’a son vueil
Me met en dueil
Sa cruauté
Et me tient contre mon gré,
Par son faus art,
Main et tart,
Plus c’un poupart
En un bersueil.

Tout desvuet quanque je vueil
Sa durté
Qui m’a miné;
Se n’ay regart
Que tel joie me regart
Comme avoir sueil,
Eins recueil
Par son orgueil
Toute grieté,
Quant je voy en haut degré
Maint grant paillart,
Maint coquart
Et maint couart
Par son escueil.

III
Ainsi Fortune se chevist
Que l’un norrist,
L’autre amaigrist,
L’un enrichist,
L’autre apovrist;
Se l’un en pleure, l’autre en rist.
En tels fais se delite.
Se l’un fait grant, l’autre amenrist
Par droit despist,
Son fait honnist;
Autre apetist,
N’autre delist
N’a; je ne prise son profist
Une troée mite.

Elle se boute en maint abist;
Se l’un garist,
L’autre mourdrist,
Quanqu’elle dist
Tantost desdist.
Adés est contraire a son dist
La fausse, l’ipocrite
M’a si blecié en l’esperist
Que ja descrist
N’iert par escrist.
Einsi languist
Mes cuers et vist
En grief qui n’est pas plus petit
Des .x. plaiez d’Egypte.

IV
Et, certes, je ne doubt mie
Que, s’a droit m’eüst
Resgardé que ma brief vie
Fenie ne fust,
Qu’en monde n’a fer ne fust,
Force, engien ne signourie
Qui sa fureur receüst,
Ne scens qui sceüst
Eschuer sa tricherie:
Tant faire peüst.

Et se ma vie fenie
Fust, tant me pleüst
Que ja mort dont j’ai envie
Ne me despleüst;
Car plus ne me deceüst
La traïtre renoïe
Et pitez me concreüst
Ne plus ne i eüst
Ma crueuse maladie
En moy ne acreüst.

V
Ainsi en grant desconfort,
Dous amis, se desconforte
Mes cuers qui t’aimme si fort
Qu’amours ne fu mais si forte,
Dont joie n’ay ne deport
Pour les griés que li tiens porte.
S’en ay en moy tel remort
Que bien vorroie estre morte.

Car Fortune nous fait tort
Par diverse voie et torte;
Mais en esperence au fort
Un tres petit me conforte,
Et en cest espoir ay sort
Que Raisons soit de ta sorte
Et qu’encor venras au port
D’onneur par la droite porte.

VI
A joie me tire
Espoirs, Diex li mire,
Et si me fait rire,
Quant sui en tristour,
Car il me vient dire
Quant mes cuers souspire:
«Lay triste matyre,
Ton dueil et ton plour,
Retourne en baudour
Et lay ta folour;
Brief venra le jour
Que tes cuers desire;
C’iert ta douce amour
Qui est droite flour
De toute valour
Hors de ce martyre.»

Si ne doi desdire
Espoir n’escondire,
Car il fait de m’ire
Joie, quant je plour,
Et sans contredire
Doucement m’atire
Et m’est trop dous mire
Contre ma dolour,
Si que la savour
De sa grant douçour
Me tient en vigour
Et me fait despire
Fortune et son tour
Qui en grant paour
Et en grant labour
Fait maint cuer defrire.

VII
Pren confort en ta souffrence
D’esperence
Main et soir:
Se tu le fais sans doubtance
D’esperence,
Nul pooir
N’a de toy faire grevence,
C’iert vaillence,
C’iert savoir,
C’iert joie, pais, aligence;
C’iert plaisence
De l’avoir.

Et se Yre ou Despit te lance
De sa lance,
Recevoir
Dois en bonne pacience,
Ne t’avence
De mouvoir,
Car au goust de souffissance
Ta pesence
Dois avoir:
Miex vaut assés s’acointance
Que puissance
D’autre avoir.

VIII
Se le dous viaire cler
Qui n’a point d’amer,
Qu’est nomper
Et sans per,
A veoir te tarde,
C’est Desirs qui dementer
Fait et tourmenter,
Souspirer
Et plourer
Maint cuer; maus feus l’arde.

Car tant me fait endurer
Que ne puis durer.
Mais tourner
Sans cesser
Te dois a la garde
D’Espoir et de Dous Penser,
S’il te vuet grever
Pour amer
Ne doubter.
La n’aras tu garde.

IX
Ne say se me sui vantee
D’estre douce ou desiree;
Mais comment qu’il aille,
Ne suis pas asseüree
Que soie la miex amee.
Or vaille que vaille,
Dit l’ay; se la destinee
Chiet seur moy, forment m’agree
Ceste devinaille,
Se de tele heure suis nee
Que, sans villeinne pensee,
A t’amour ne faille.

Mais quant ad ce suis menee
Que mon cuer sans dessevree,
Tout entier, te baille,
Ou vraie amour enserree
Est loial, ferme et secree,
Ce seroit, sans faille,
Pechiez d’estre si moquee;
Et pour ce a vois esplouree
Te pri, ne te chaille
D’autre amer, quar, que qui bee
A m’amour qui t’est donnee,
En vaing se travaille.

X
En tels deduis
Est mes cuers duis
De grieté vuis;
Et c’est conduis,
Espoir, par toy, quant seur moy luis.
Mais trop me cuis,
Car en un puis,
Ou j’ay d’anuis
Plus de cent muis,
M’estuet cheoir quant tu t’en fuis.

La fleurs ne fruis
N’a, seule y suis;
Pour ce ne puis
De joie luis
Trouver. La sont longues mes nuis,
La me destruis,
Quant ne te truis;
La tant me nuis
Et si me duis
Qu’a plourer est tous mes refuis.

XI
Mais ne m’esmay,
Quant je t’ay,
Car li plaint
Et li esmay
Que je tray
Sont esteint
Ta force veint
Et seurveint,
Bien le say,
Tout ce qui teint
Et desteint
Mon cuer gay.

Si qu’en mon lay
Sans delay
Et sans plaint
M’esjoïrai
Et lairay
Mon complaint;
Et se mal maint
M’ont destraint,
D’un cuer vray
Qui en toy maint
Que qu’i maint,
T’ameray.

XII
Pour ce, amis, pren de ta gent
Espoir, le tres biau corps gent
Et le dous nom
Qui tout veint de bon renom.
Et vraiement,
S’en toy d’euls has fermement
L’impression,
Tu vivras en ta prison
Joieusement.

Se tu le fais autrement,
En dolour, dolentement,
Confusion,
Pleur et lamentation
Aras souvent.
Loe Dieu devotement
Et a bas ton:
N’i voy milleur ne si bon
Esbatement.

Guillaume de Machaut (c1300-1377)

For on the earth there is nothing,
No planet in the sky above,
That does not bestow
Without cause the gift of weeping
On my wretched heart;
And Fortune, with the gusts
Of a whirlwind,
Has tumbled me down from her mansion
To the ground.

II
And so doing has gazed on me
With only one eye,
And yet has done me such harm,
So God protect me,
By this askance look
That I deeply sorrow over
How in her cruelty
She did intend
To sink me into such sadness,
Holding me captive against my will
Through her false dealing
Early and late,
More than a baby
In some cradle.

She opposes everything that I wish for,
In her hardness,
Which has undermined me,
And I do not possess the look
Which gazes on me with such joy
As I was accustomed to have,
Instead I receive
Through her haughtiness
Complete misery,
When I see in high station
Many a great good-for-nothing,
Many an idiot,
And many a coward
Through her favouring them.

III
This is how Fortune proceeds,
Nurturing one,
Making another waste away,
Enriching someone,
Impoverishing someone else;
If one man weeps, another laughs over it.
She delights in all that she does.
If she brings one to greatness, she makes another small;
Rightfully she shows spite,
Her deeds bring shame;
Some other she encourages,
Another has nothing of
Delight; I do not value her benefit
More than a found farthing.

She shoves her way into many a dwelling;
If she heals one,
She kills another,
Whatever she says,
She unsays at once.
She always contradicts what she’s said.
The faithless hypocrite
Has dealt my spirit a wound such
That it will never be described
Or put into writing.
And so my heart
Languishes and lives on
In a misery that is not smaller in the least
Than the ten plagues of Egypt.

IV
And surely I do not doubt at all,
If she had properly looked
My way, that my young life
Would have been ended,
For in this world there is no iron or wood,
No force, stratagem or lordship
That might stand up to her fury;
No wisdom that might
Avoid her trickery,
Whatever its power might do.

And if my life had come
To an end, it would have pleased me greatly,
For never death, which I desire,
Would have displeased me;
For then that renegade traitor
Would not have betrayed me more,
And pity for me would have increased,
Nor would it have been
That my cruel illness
Should have festered more.

V
And so in great discomfort,
Sweet friend, my heart
Finds misery, which with such strength
Loves you, for love was never before so strong,
And from this I have neither joy nor pleasure
Because of the suffering your own bears.
And within I feel such remorse
That I’d prefer being dead.

For Fortune has done us wrong
In ways separate and perverse;
And yet especially in hope
I find a little comfort,
And I am betting on this hope
That Reason will take your part
And that by the proper path you will
Still make your way to the port of honour.

VI
May Hope draw me toward
Joy, and God look down upon him,
And thus bring me to laughter
When I am sunk in sadness,
For Hope comes to tell me
When my heart is sighing:
‘Abandon this sad theme,
Your pain and your weeping,
Return to cheerfulness
And lay aside your folly;
Soon the day will come
That your heart desires;
And that is your sweet love,
Who is the rightful flower
Of all valour,
Beyond this suffering.’

So I should not speak ill of
Hope, or offer some refusal,
For he turns my anger
Into joy whenever I weep,
And without any contradiction,
He sweetly summons me
And is a very gentle physician
For the pain I suffer,
And so the taste
Of his great sweetness
Keeps me strong
And leads me to despise
Fortune and her doings,
Who in great fear
And in great toil
Makes many a heart break.

VII
Take comfort in your suffering
From Hope
Morning and night:
If you act without fear
According to Hope,
No one has the power
To do you any harm.
It will be worthiness,
It will be wisdom,
It will be joy, peace, relief;
It will be pleasure
To possess this.

And if Anger or Spite stabs you
With his lance,
You should
Endure this in good patience
And make no attempt
To move aside,
For you should accept your tribulation
With some drop
Of Moderation:
Of rather more value is this connection
Than to have
Power over some other.

VIII
If that sweet and beautiful face,
In which there is no trace of bitterness,
Which is without peer
And unrivalled,
You are eager to gaze upon,
It’s Desire who drives mad
And torments,
Makes sigh
And weep
Many a heart; may he burn in a cruel fire!

For he makes me suffer so much
That I cannot go on.
And yet you must,
Never stopping,
Turn to the protection
Of Hope and Sweet Thought,
If Desire thinks to harm you
On account of love,
Nor should you fear.
With them you’ll have no need of defence.

IX
I know not if I am reputed
To be a woman kind and desirable;
But whatever might happen,
I am not confident
That I am the woman more loved.
Now however it turns out,
I have said this; if fate
Decrees it so, what I have foreseen
Suits me well
As long as I have been born in an hour
That, thinking no base thoughts,
I did not fail in loving you.

But since I have been led to the point
Of bestowing, not holding back,
On you all my heart,
In which love true and deep
Is faithful, resolved, and discreet,
It would be, no doubt,
A sin to be mocked in this way;
And so, speaking as I weep,
I beg you not to involve yourself
In loving some other for, whoever requests
My love, which has been granted to you,
Labours in vain.

X
Into such delight
Is my heart led,
Devoid of misery;
And it is conducted there,
By you, Hope, when you shine upon me.
But I suffer too much
When down a pit,
Where I experience more than
A hundred measures of turmoil,
I must fall when you take flight.

Flower or fruit
Are there none, I am alone there;
So I cannot find
The door to
Joy. There my nights are long,
There I destroy myself
When I cannot find you;
There I make myself so miserable
That I am led
To find all my refuge in weeping.

XI
But I do not despair
Since I have you,
For the laments
And the misery
That I bear
Are extinguished.
Your power conquers
And overcomes,
Well I know it,
All that mars
And blackens
My joyful heart.

And so in my lay
Without delay
And without moaning
I will take joy
And I will abandon
My complaining;
And if many ills
Have weighed me down,
With a faithful heart,
Which remains with you,
Whatever is there for it,
I will love you.

XII
And so, my friend, take from your gracious
Hope, the most beautiful person
And sweet name
Which surpasses in good repute everyone else.
And truly,
If you possess securely in yourself the impression
Of them,
You will inhabit your prison
With joy.

If you manage this otherwise,
In pain, and miserably,
You will often experience
Confusion, pain, and
Lamentation.
Praise God with devotion,
And in a soft voice:
I see here no better joy, or any enjoyment
So good.

English: R Barton Palmer © 2018