by Guillaume de Machaut (c1300 - 1377)
Translation © by David Wyatt

Dame, à qui
Language: French (Français) 
Our translations:  ENG
Dame, à qui
M'ottri
De cuer, sans penser laidure,
Je n'ay mie desservi
Qu'enhaï
M'ait si
Vos cuers qu'à desconfiture
Soie pour l'amour de li.

Car de tres loial amour
Maint jour
Vous ay amé et servi,
N'onques vos cuers n'ot tenrour
Dou plour
Qui m'a tout anienti.
S'en gemi
Et di
Que ce n'est mie droiture
Que toudis soie en oubli,
Car en mi
Par mi
Partiroit mon cuer d'ardure,
Bele, s'il estoit einsi.

Dame, à qui
M'ottri.

Helas! toudis sans sejour
Aour
Vo doulz viaire joli,
Mais trouver n'i puis douçour
N'amour
Fors samlance d'anemi.
S'en fremy,
Aymi!
Et en dolour qui trop dure
Dolereusement langui,
Quant meri
D'ottri
Ne d'esperance seüre
Ne m'a encor esjoÿ.

Dame, à qui
M'ottri
De cuer, sans penser laidure.

Belle et bonne, sans folour,
D'onnour
Vous ha Diex si enrichi
Que vous estes de valour
La flour;
Pour ce vous ay encheri.
Se vous pri
Merci
Que de vostre grace pure
Me daingniés clamer ami;
Et einsi
Gari
M'arés dou mal que j'endure,
Tresdont que premiers vous vi.

Dame, à qui
M'ottri
De cuer, sans penser laidure,
Je n'ay mie desservi
Qu'enhaï
M'ait si
Vos cuers qu'à desconfiture
Soie pour l'amour de li.

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, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • ENG English (David Wyatt) , title 1: "Lady to whom", copyright © 2015, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 63
Word count: 201

Lady to whom
Language: English  after the French (Français) 
Lady, to whom
I give myself
Heartily, without intending offence,
I have not deserved
That your heart
Should have conceived for me
Such hatred that I am crestfallen
For love of it.

For with most faithful love
For many a day
Have I loved and served you,
But your heart never has tenderness
For the weeping
Which has entirely annihilated me.
So I groan about it
And say
That it is never right
That I should be always forgotten,
For in half
Entirely
My heart would break from desire,
Fair one, if it were so.

Lady, to whom
I give myself...

Alas, always without rest
I adore
Your sweet, pretty face,
But I can find there no softness
Nor love,
Only the appearance of an enemy.
So I shiver,
Ah me!
And in pain which lasts too long
I fade away painfully,
Since neither the reward
Of your favour
Nor sure hope
Has yet cheered me.

Lady, to whom
I give myself
Heartily, without intending offence...

Fair and good, without giddiness,
With honour
Has God enriched you so
That you are of virtue
The flower;
For this have I held you dear.
So I beg of you
Mercy
That simply of your grace
You will deign to call me beloved;
And so
You will have
Cured me of the ill which I have endured
Ever since i first saw you.

Lady, to whom
I give myself
Heartily, without intending offence,
I have not deserved
That your heart
Should have conceived for me
Such hatred that I am crestfallen
For love of it.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2015 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: 

Based on:

 

This text was added to the website: 2015-01-13
Line count: 63
Word count: 262