by
Louise Labé (1526 - 1566)
Las ! que me sert, que si parfaitement
Language: French (Français)
Las ! que me sert, que si parfaitement
Louas iadis & ma tresse dorée.
Et de mes yeus la beauté comparee
À deux Soleils, dont Amour finement
Tira les trets causez de ton tourment ?
Ou estes vous, pleurs de peu de duree ?
Et Mort par qui deuoit estre honorée
Ta ferme amour & itéré serment ?
Donques c'estoit le but de ta malice
De m'asseruir sous ombre de seruice ?
Pardonne moy, Ami, à cette fois,
Estant outrée & de despit & d'ire :
Mais ie m'assure, quelque part que tu sois,
Qu'autant que moy tu soufres de martire.
About the headline (FAQ)
Confirmed with Œuvres de Louise Labé, texte établi par Charles Boy, Paris, Alphonse Lemerre, 1887, page 106.
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):
- by Konrad Boehmer (b. 1941), "Martyre", published 1980 [ soprano, flute, and percussion ], from Je vis - je meurs, no. 4, Darmstadt, Tonos [sung text not yet checked]
- by Michel Bosc (b. 1963), "Las ! que me sert que si parfaitement", op. 206 no. 8 (2006) [ high voice, guitar, and 2 mandolins ], from Le Jardin de Louise Labé, Suite, no. 8 [sung text not yet checked]
- by Michel Bosc (b. 1963), "Las ! que me sert que si parfaitement", 2018 [ medium voice and piano ], from Deux sonnets de Louise Labé, no. 2 [sung text not yet checked]
- by Thomas Oboe Lee (b. 1945), "Las ! que me sert, que si parfaitement", 2021 [ soprano and piano ], from Sept Sonnets de Louise Labé, no. 7, SMP Press [sung text not yet checked]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [
Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2012-02-10
Line count: 14
Word count: 95
Alas, what use is it to me that once
Language: English after the French (Français)
Alas, what use is it to me that once
you praised so perfectly my golden hair
and my fair eyes - you said they were a pair
of suns where Eros lodged, the very suns
from which the arrows flew that pierced your heart?
Where are they now, the tears you shed before?
And where’s the death you spoke of when you swore
three times to love me true and not depart?
Was it the goal of your malicious plays
to seem to serve, but really to enslave?
Oh no, dear friend, forgive me this one time
what I’ve just said in hurt and spiteful rage:
for I’m convinced, wherever you are these days,
that you are suffering grief as great as mine.
About the headline (FAQ)
Text Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2022 by Peter Low, (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 Louise Labé (1526 - 1566), no title, appears in Sonnets, no. 23
This text was added to the website: 2022-07-11
Line count: 14
Word count: 122