by Rutebeuf (c1225 - c1285)
Translation © by Grant Hicks

Pauvre sens et pauvre mémoire
Language: Old French (Ancien français) 
Our translations:  ENG
Pauvre sens et pauvre mémoire
M'a donné Dieu, le roi de gloire,
        Et pauvre rente....
Ainsi suis comme l'osier franc
Ou comme l'oiseau sur la branche :
        L'été, je chante;
L'hiver, je pleure et me lamente,
Et me défeuille ainsi que l'arbre
        Au premier gel.
En moi n'ai ni venin, ni fiel :
Ne me reste rien sous le ciel,
        Tout va sa voie....
Les dés que les détiers ont faits
M'ont de ma robe tout défait :
        Les dés m'occient,
Les dés me guettent et épient,
Les dés m'assaillent et défient,
        C'est mon malheur !
Je n'en puis mais, si je m'effraie :
Ne vois venir avril ni mai,
        Voici la glace.

About the headline (FAQ)

Confirmed with Léon Clédat, Rutebeuf, Paris: Librairie Hachette, 1891, page 32.

Note: the spelling of this text has been modernized.

Text Authorship:

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):

Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • ENG English (Grant Hicks) , copyright © 2026, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this page: Grant Hicks [Guest Editor]

This text was added to the website: 2026-09-04
Line count: 21
Word count: 108

Poor sense and a poor memory
Language: English  after the Old French (Ancien français) 
Poor sense and a poor memory 
Has God given me, the king of glory,
        And a poor living....
I am like the basket willow 
Or like the bird on the branch:
        In Summer, I sing...
In Winter, I weep and lament,
And drop my leaves like the tree
        At the first frost.
I have no venom or gall within me:
Nothing remains to me beneath heaven,
        Everything goes away....
The dice that the dice-makers have made
Have deprived me of my robe:
        The dice kill me,
The dice lie in wait and spy on me,
The dice assail and challenge me,
        This is my misfortune!
I can do no more, so troubled am I:
I do not see April or May coming,
        Here there is ice.

About the headline (FAQ)

Translations of titles:
"La grièche d'hiver" = "The Hardship of Winter"

Translator's note: Although the poet apparently gave it no title, this poem is sometimes referred to as La grièche d'hiver, after a phrase that occurs in many versions of the poem, although not in this one. The phrase plays on two senses of the Old French word grièche: "hardship; burden" and the name of a particular game of chance played with dice.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from Old French (Ancien français) to English copyright © 2026 by Grant Hicks, (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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This text was added to the website: 2026-10-12
Line count: 21
Word count: 126