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by Pierre de Ronsard (1524 - 1585)
Translation © by David Wyatt
Mais voyez mon cher esmoy
Language: French (Français)
Our translations: ENG
Mais voyez mon cher esmoy, Voyez combien de merveilles Vous parfaites dedans moy Par vos beautez nompareilles. De telle façon vos yeux, Vostre ris et vostre grace, Vostre front et vos cheveux , Et vostre angélique face, Me bruslent depuis le jour Que j’en eu la cognoissance, Desirant par grand amour En avoir la jouyssance : Que sans l’aide de mes pleurs Dont ma vie est arrosée, Long temps a que les chaleurs D’Amour l’eussent embrasée. Au contraire vos beaux yeux, Vostre ris et vostre grace, Vostre front et vos cheveux, Et vostre angélique face, Me gelent depuis le jour Que j’en eu la cognoissance, Desirant par grande amour En avoir la jouyssance : Que sans l’aide des chaleurs Dont mon ame est embrasée, Long temps a que par mes pleurs En eau se fust espuisée. Voyez donc, mon cher esmoy, Voyez combien de merveilles Vous parfaites dedans moy Par vos beautez nompareilles.
G. Hele sets stanzas 1-4
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View text with all available footnotesText Authorship:
- by Pierre de Ronsard (1524 - 1585), no title [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
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Researcher for this page: David Wyatt
This text was added to the website: 2014-11-19
Line count: 32
Word count: 157
Ah see, my dear trouble!
Language: English after the French (Français)
Ah see, my dear trouble! See how many wonders You perfect within me Through your matchless beauty. In such a way your eyes Your smile and your grace, Your brow and your hair, And your angelic face Have been burning me since the day When I first knew them, Wishing with great passion To have the pleasure of them; So that without the aid of my tears With which my life is bedewed, Long since the heats Of Love would have set me ablaze. On the contrary, your fair eyes Your smile and your grace, Your brow and your hair, And your angelic face Have been freezing me since the day When I first knew them, Wishing with great passion To have the pleasure of them; So that without the aid of the heats With which my soul is burning, Long since my plaints Would have been exhausted in water. See then, my dear trouble, See how many wonders You perfect within me Through your matchless beauty.
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- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2014 by David Wyatt, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
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Based on:
- a text in French (Français) by Pierre de Ronsard (1524 - 1585), no title
Go to the general view
This text was added to the website: 2014-11-19
Line count: 32
Word count: 173