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Je ne sçay que c'est qu'il me faut, Froid ou chaud Je ne dors plus ny je ne veille C’est merveille De me voir sain et langoureux. Je croy que je suis amoureux. En quatre jours ne fais pas Deux repas Je ne voix ny beuf ny charrue J’ay la rue Pour me pourmener nuict et jour. Je fuis l’hostel et le sejour. Aussi il m’estoit grand besoin D’avoir soing Qui auroit des dances le pris Je fus pris Et m’amusay tant à la feste Qu’encore m’en tourne la teste. Je ne say ou le mal me tient Mais il vient D’avoir dancé avec Catin Son tetin Alloit au bransle, maudit soit-je, Il estoit aussi blanc que nege. Elle avoit son beau collet mis De Samis Son beau surcot rouge et ses manches Des Dimenches Un long cordon à petits neuds Pendant sur ces souliers tous neufs Je me vy jecter ses yeux vers De travers Dont je feis des saut plus de dix Et luy dis En luy serrant le petit doi Catin c’est pour l’amour de toy. Sur ce point elle me laissa Et cessa De faire de moy plus de compte J’en euz honte Si grande que pour me cacher Je feis semblant de me moucher. Je l’ay veue une fois depuis A son huis Et une autre allant au marché J’ay marché Cent pas pour lui dire deux mots Mais elle me tourne le doz. Si ceste contenance fiere Dure guere Adieu grange, adieu labouraige J’ay couraige De me voir gendarme un matin Ou moyen en despit de Catin.
Text Authorship:
- by Mellin de Saint-Gelais (1487 - 1558) [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Jacob (aka Jacques or Jachet) Arcadelt (c1505 - c1568), "Je ne sçay que c'est qu'il me faut" [sung text not yet checked]
- by Jean Chardavoine (c1537 - c1580), "Je ne sçay que c'est qu'il me faut", from Recueil des voix de ville [sung text checked 1 time]
- by Antoine Mornable (flourished 1530-1553), "Je ne sçay que c'est qu'il me faut" [sung text not yet checked]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (David Wyatt) , "I know not what I need", copyright © 2017, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: David Wyatt
This text was added to the website: 2017-06-12
Line count: 54
Word count: 263
I know not what I need, Cold or hot, I sleep not nor wake It’s a wonder To see me healthy yet pining. I believe I’m in love! In four days I’ve had only Two meals, I cannot look at ox or plough, I have the street To walk in night and day. I avoid lodging and rest. It was really important to me To care Who would win the dance-prize, I was so interested And amused myself so much at the feast That still it turns my head. I don’t know where the illness caught me But it comes From having danced with Katie, Her breast Bounced in the dance, and I was damned, It was as white as snow. She had on her fine collar made Of Samite, Her fine red surcoat and her Sunday gloves, A long necklet in little knots, Brand new, hanging on her shoulders. I saw her throwing her glance at me Askance, So I made ten or more leaps And said to her As I took her little finger, “Katie, it’s for love of you.” That moment, she left me And stopped Paying any attention to me. I was so Ashamed that to hide myself I pretended to wipe my face with my handkerchief. I saw her once afterwards At her door, Going with another lass to market. I walked A hundred paces to say a couple of words to her, But she turned her back on me. If this proud look Lasts long, Farewell farm, farewell work, I have courage To become a man-at-arms one day, Or a monk, to spite Katie.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2017 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.
Contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
- a text in French (Français) by Mellin de Saint-Gelais (1487 - 1558)
This text was added to the website: 2017-06-12
Line count: 54
Word count: 270