Chanson (Amours 1.228a)

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Du jour que je fus amoureux,
Nul past, tant soit-il savoureux,
Ne vin tant soit il delectable,
Au cœur ne m’est point agreable :
Car depuis l’heure je ne sceu
Manger ou boire qui m’ait pleu.
Une tristesse en l’ame close
Me nourrist, et non autre chose.
 
Tous les plaisirs que j’estimois
Alors que libre je n’aimois,
Maintenant je les desestime :
Plus ne m’est plaisante l’escrime,
La paume, la chasse, et le bal,
Mais comme un farouche animal
Je me pers pour celer ma rage,
En l’abry d’un antre sauvage.
 
L’amour fut bien forte poison
Qui m’ensorcela la raison,
Et qui me desroba l’audace
Que je portoy dessus la face,
Me faisant aller pas à pas,
Triste et pensif, le front à bas,
En homme qui craint et qui n’ose
Se fier plus en nulle chose.
 
Le torment qu’on feint d’Ixion,
N’approche de ma passion,
Et mieux j’aimerois de Tantale
Endurer la peine fatale
Un an, qu’estre un jour amoureux,
Pour languir autant malheureux
Que j’ay fait, depuis que Cassandre
Tient mon cœur et ne le veut rendre.
From the day when I fell in love,
No food however tasty,
No wine however delectable,
Is pleasant to my heart;
For since that hour I’ve been unable
To drink or eat what pleased me.
A sadness shut up in my soul
Feeds me, and nothing else.
 
All the pleasures which I valued
When I was free and didn’t love,
Now I value them not at all;
No more pleasant to me are battles,
Tennis, hunting, balls;
But like a wild animal
I lose myself to conceal my madness
In the shelter of a wild cave.
 
Love was the very strong poison
Which bewitched my reason
And stole away the daring
I wore on my face,
Making me go step by step
Sad and pensive, my head bowed,
Like a man who fears and dares
No longer trust in anything.
 
The pretended torture of Ixion
Does not approach my passion,
And I’d rather endure
The deadly punishment of Tantalus
For a year, than be for one day in love
And languish as sadly
As I have since Cassandre
Has held my heart and won’t give it back.
 
In the last stanza, Tantalus and Ixion are once more paired. It’s a common simile for torments!
 
There are some minor variants in Blanchemain’s version. The last stanza opens with “Le mal qu’on feint…” which has the avantage of making Ixion into a trisyllable (Ix-i-on), but the disadvantage that the rhyme-word “passion” is a disyllable (pas-sion)! The revised version above forces Ixion into the same disyllabic form.
 
There are other weaknesses in the earlier version. Blanchemain also opens with a slightly weaker first line, “Depuis que je suis amoureux” (‘Since I fell in love’); and in the second half of that stanza has “… je ne sçeu / Rien boire ou manger qui m’ait pleu” (‘… To drink or eat anything which pleased me’). Then his second stanza ends
 
 
Je me pers dans un bois sauvage,
Loing des gens, pour celer ma rage.
 
                                                                         I lose myself in a wild wood,
                                                                         Far from people, to conceal my madness.
 
 
 
 
 
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About fattoxxon

Who am I? Lover of all sorts of music - classical, medieval, world (anything from Africa), world-classical (Uzbek & Iraqi magam for instance), and virtually anything that won't be on the music charts... Lover of Ronsard's poetry (obviously) and of sonnets in general. Reader of English, French, Latin & other literature. And who is Fattoxxon? An allusion to an Uzbek singer - pronounce it Patahan, with a very plosive 'P' and a throaty 'h', as in 'khan')

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