by
Christine de Pizan (1363 - c1434)
Dueil angoisseus, rage desmesurée
Language: French (Français)
Dueil angoisseus, rage desmesurée,
Grief desespoir, plein de forsennement,
Langour sansz fin et vie maleürée
Pleine de plour, d'angoisse et de tourment,
Cuer doloreux qui vit obscurement,
Tenebreux corps sur le point de partir
Ay, sanz cesser, continuellement;
Et si ne puis ne garir ne morir.
Fierté, durté de joye separée,
Triste penser, parfont gemissement,
Angoisse grant en las cuer enserrée,
Courroux amer porté couvertement
Morne maintien sanz resjoïssement,
Espoir dolent qui tous biens fait tarir,
Si sont en moy , sanz partir nullement;
Et si ne puis ne garir ne morir.
Soussi, anuy qui tous jours a durée,
Aspre veillier, tressaillir en dorment,
Labour en vain, à chiere alangourée
En grief travail infortunéement,
Et tout le mal, qu'on puet entierement
Dire et penser sanz espoir de garir,
Me tourmentent desmesuréement;
Et si ne puis ne garir ne morir.
Princes, priez à Dieu qui bien briefment
Me doint la mort, s'autrement secourir
Ne veult le mal ou languis durement;
Et si ne puis ne garir ne morir.
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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 (David Wyatt) , "Anguished grief", copyright © 2012, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: David Wyatt
This text was added to the website: 2012-06-06
Line count: 28
Word count: 167
Anguished grief
Language: English after the French (Français)
Anguished grief, fury beyond measure,
Grievous despair, full of frenzy,
Pining without end and a life made of misfortune,
Full of tears, anguish and torment,
A sad heart which lives in darkness,
A ghost-like body at the verge of death,
All this, without ceasing, continually
And from these I can neither be healed nor die.
Pride, the harshness of being separated from joy,
Sad thoughts, deep sighing,
Great anguish locked up in my weary heart,
Bitter anger borne secretly,
A mournful bearing without happiness,
Tearful hope which dries up all my good,
These are in me, never leaving
And from these I can neither be healed nor die.
Pain, irritation which has gone on for ever,
Bitter to be awake, shuddering in sleep,
Empty tasks, their importance enfeebled
In sad work, unhappily,
And every ill that anyone could ever
Say or think, without hope of a cure,
These torment me out of measure --
And from these I can neither be healed nor die.
Princes, pray to God that he would very soon
Grant me death, if he is unwilling in any other way
To help with the ills in which I am painfully wasting away
And from these I can neither be healed nor die.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2012 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:
This text was added to the website: 2012-06-06
Line count: 28
Word count: 205
