by Anonymous / Unidentified Author
Ma bouche rit
Language: Old French (Ancien français)
Ma bouche rit et ma pensee pleure
Mon oeil s'esjoye et mon cuer maudit l'eure
Qu'il ot le bien que sa senté dechasse
Et le plaisir qui la mort me pourchasse
Sans reconfort qui m'aide ne sequeure.
Ha cueur pervers faulsaire et mensongier
Dictes comment avez osé songier
Que de faulcer ce que m'avez promis
Puis qu'en ce point vous vous volez vengier
Pensez bientost de ma vie abregier
Vivre ne puis au point ou m'avez mis.
Vostre pitié veult d'onques que je meure
Mais rigueur veult que vivant je demeure
Ainsi meurs vif et en vivant trepasse
Mais pour celer le mal qui ne se passe
Et pour couvrir la deul ou je labeure.
Ma bouche rit et ma pensee pleure
Mon oeil s'esjoye et mon cuer maudit l'eure
Qu'il ot le bien que sa senté dechasse
Et le plaisir qui la mort me pourchasse
Sans reconfort qui m'aide ne sequeure.
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: "My lips are smiling", copyright © 2012, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: David Wyatt
This text was added to the website: 2012-09-10
Line count: 21
Word count: 152
My lips are smiling
Language: English after the Old French (Ancien français)
My lips are smiling but my thoughts are crying
My eye is happy but my heart curses the hour
When it gained the good which chased away well-being
And the pleasure which pursues me to death
With no consolation to help or come to my aid.
Ah, perverse, false, lying heart,
Tell me how you dared dream
Of going back on what you promised.
Since on this point you wish to take revenge
Think rather of shortening my life --
I cannot live in the condition where you've put me.
Your pity perhaps wishes me to die,
But your harshness wishes me to remain alive,
So alive I die and living I pass away.
But to conceal the pain which never passes
And to cover the grief under which I labour,
My lips are smiling but my thoughts are crying
My eye is happy but my heart curses the hour
When it gained the good which chased away well-being
And the pleasure which pursues me to death
With no consolation to help or come to my aid.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from Old French (Ancien 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: 2012-09-10
Line count: 21
Word count: 176