Les Poésies de Jausbert de Puycibot


« ausbert’s works was first edited and published by William P. Shepard under the title Les Poésies de Jausbert de Puycibot (Paris, 1924). »


Era quan l’ivernz nos laissa
E par la fuoilla en la vaissa
   E il lauzellet chanton c’uns no s’en laissa,
Fas sirventes ses biaissa,
Mas uns malastrucs m’afaissa,
    Car ab joves no.s te: Dieus li don aissa!
Mais pretz una vieilla saissa
Que non a ni carn ni craissa.
   Mal ai’ er el os e daval la madaissa!
  Que la genta, covinenta, on bos pretz s’eslaissa,
Fina, francha, frescha, blancha, don jois no.s biaissa,
Mais la vuoill, si gen m’acuoill ni josta se m’acaissa,
Que la rota, que.m des tota Limoges e Aissa.
    .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .
En Bertranz men com afacha. . .
    E volria n’agues la testa fracha!
Pois parlar l’aug del manjar ni de bon’ osta.l tracha,
Al jazer compra.l ben ser, tot lo porc e la vacha,
Quar s’embarga en la pel larga, que es molla e fracha.
Semblanz es, quant hom l’ades, qu’anc no.n trais sa
    .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .
E tenc m’a gran desmesura
Que, pois domna desfegura,
    Quar ja i fai muzel ni armadura.
Mas prezes de si tal cura
Per que l’arm’ estes segura,
    Que.l cors desvai a totz jorns e pejura.
  Eu lor dic aquest prezic per gran bonaventura.
  En Bertran vei a lor dan, e par que, per fraichura,
  Cad’ aver las! i esper e soffre et abdura.

Voici la traduction qu’en donne Shepard

Now when Winter goes and leaves appear on the wild vine and the birdlets sing without one of them ever stopping, I compose a sirventes without twistings or turnings, since a wretch afflicts me, fellow who does not like the girls! May God give him unease! He thinks more of a grey old hag without flesh or fat. May disease smite his bones and may his jaw hang down! The gentle, graceful girl, to whom good report clings, fine open-hearted, fresh, and white, from whom joy never turns away, she is the one whom I desire, if she but welcome me gently and press me to her, far more than the broken down old hag,even if she gave all of Limoges and Aissa. Sir Bertran lies like a painted face. . . I wish that he might get a broekn head for it! When I hear him talk about eating and what he gets out of his good hostess, I’ll say that when he has to lie with her, he’ll pay dearly for the fine evening and all the pork and beef, for he’ll get « fussed » with her thick skin, so soft and wrinkled. It seems really, when a man toches her, as if she had never taken off her outer garment. And I think that it is a great abuse for a lady, after she loses her beauty, to make herself a veil or other armour. I would rather that she care for herself spiritually, so that her soul may be saved, for her body degenerates and grows worse all the time. So I preach to them [the old women] this sermon, for their great good luck. But I see that Sir Bertran is inclined to do them harm. It seems that, for his sins, he hopes to find in them every kind of gain, and so he keeps on suffering and enduring them.

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