Chaucer Translation: Rejection

Rejection a roundel by Geoffrey Chaucer loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Your beauty from your heart has so erased Pity, that it's useless to complain; For Pride now holds your mercy by a chain. I'm guiltless, yet my sentence has been passed. I tell you truly, needless now to feign: Your beauty from your heart has so erased Pity, that it's useless to complain. Alas, that Nature in your face compassed Such beauty, that no man may hope attain To mercy, though he perish from the pain; Your beauty from your heart has so erased Pity, that it's useless to complain; For Pride now holds your mercy by a chain. Original text: So hath your beaute fro your herte chaced Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne; For Daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne. Giltles my deth thus han ye me purchaced; I sey yow soth, me nedeth not to feyne; So hath your beaute fro your herle chaced Pilee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne Allas! that nature hath in yow compassed So gret beaute, that no man may atteyne To mercy, though he sterve for the peyne. So hath your beaute fro your herte chaced Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne; For daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne. Keywords/Tags: Geoffrey Chaucer, rondeau, roundel, rondel, French, translation, medieval, medieval love, rejection, nature, beauty, women, heart, pity, mercy, pride, chain, erase, erased, complain, complaint, guilt, guiltless, innocence, innocent, sentence, passed, cast, hope, perish, die, death A Proverb from Winfred's Time anonymous Old English poem, circa 757-786 loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch 1. The procrastinator puts off purpose, never initiates anything marvelous, never succeeds, and dies alone. 2. The late-deed-doer delays glory-striving, never indulges daring dreams, never succeeds, and dies alone. 3. Often the deed-dodger avoids ventures, never succeeds, and dies alone. Oft daedlata domâ forâldit, sigisitha gahuem, suuyltit thi ana. Winfrid or Wynfrith is better known as Saint Boniface (c. 675-754). The poem might better be titled "A Proverb Against Procrastination from Winfred's Time." This may be the second-oldest English poem, after "Caedmon's Hymn." A cleric courts his lady (anonymous Middle English poem, circa late 13th century) loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch My death I love, my life I hate, because of a lovely lady; She's as bright as the broad daylight, and shines on me so purely. I fade before her like a leaf in summer when it's green. If thinking of her does no good, to whom shall I complain? Fairest Between Lincoln and Lindsey (anonymous Middle English poem, circa late 13th century) loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch When the nightingale sings, the woods turn green; Leaf and grass again blossom in April, I know, Yet love pierces my heart with its spear so keen! Night and day it drinks my blood. The painful rivulets flow. I’ve loved all this year. Now I can love no more; I’ve sighed many a sigh, sweetheart, and yet all seems wrong. For love is no nearer and that leaves me poor. Sweet lover, think of me — I’ve loved you so long! He sits with his harp at his thane's feet, Earning his hire, his rewards of rings, Sweeping the strings with his skillful nail; Hall-thanes smile at the sweet song he sings. —"Fortunes of Men" loose translation by Michael R. Burch "The Leiden Riddle" is an Old English translation of Aldhelm's Latin riddle Lorica ("Corselet"). The Leiden Riddle anonymous Old English riddle poem, circa 700 loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The dank earth birthed me from her icy womb. I know I was not fashioned from woolen fleeces; nor was I skillfully spun from skeins; I have neither warp nor weft; no thread thrums through me in the thrashing loom; nor do whirring shuttles rattle me; nor does the weaver's rod assail me; nor did silkworms spin me like skillfull fates into curious golden embroidery. And yet heroes still call me an excellent coat. Nor do I fear the dread arrows' flights, however eagerly they leap from their quivers. Solution: a coat of mail. Franks Casket Runes anonymous Old English poems, circa 700 loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch 1. The fish flooded the shore-cliffs; the sea-king wept when he swam onto the shingle: whale's bone. 2. Romulus and Remus, twin brothers weaned in Rome by a she-wolf, far from their native land. I Have a Yong Suster (Anonymous Medieval English Riddle-Poem, circa 1430) translation by Michael R. Burch I have a young sister Far beyond the sea; Many are the keepsakes That she sent me. She sent me the cherry Without any stone; And also the dove Without any bone. She sent me the briar Without any skin; She bade me love my lover Without longing. How should any cherry Be without a stone? And how should any dove Be without a bone? How should any briar Be without a skin? And how should I love my lover Without longing? When the cherry was a flower, Then it had no stone; When the dove was an egg, Then it had no bone. When the briar was unborn, Then it had no skin; And when a maiden has her mate, She is without longing! The Perfect Courtesan by Michael R. Burch after Baudelaire, for the courtesans She received me into her cavities, indulging my darkest depravities with such trembling longing, I felt her need ... Such was the dalliance to which we agreed— she, my high rider; I, her wild steed. She surrendered her all and revealed to me— the willing handmaiden, delighted to please, the Perfect Courtesan of Ecstasy. Bede's Death Song ancient Old English/Anglo-Saxon lyric poem, circa 735 AD loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Facing Death, that inescapable journey, who can be wiser than he who reflects, while breath yet remains, on whether his life brought others happiness, or pains, since his soul may yet win delight's or night's way after his death-day.