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Iéu, d'uno chato enamourado
Aro qu'ai di la mau-parado,
Cantarai, se Diéu vòu, un enfant de Cassis,
Un simple pescaire d'anchoio
Qu'emé soun gàubi e'mé sa voio
Dóu pur amour gagnè li joio,
L'empèri, lou trelus.
- Amo de moun païs,
Tu que dardaies, manifèsto,
E dins sa lengo e dins sa gèsto;
Quand li baroun picard, alemand, bourguignoun,
Sarravon Toulouso e Bèu-Caire,
Tu qu'empurères de tout caire
Contro li négri cavaucaire
Lis ome de Marsiho e li fiéu d'Avignoun;
Pèr la grandour di remenbranço
Tu que nous sauves l'esperanço;
Tu que dins la jouinesso, e plus caud e plus bèu,
Mau-grat la mort e l'aclapaire,
Fas regreia lou sang di paire;
Tu qu'ispirant li dous troubaire,
Fas pièi mistraleja la voues de Mirabèu;
Car lis oundado seculàri
E si tempèsto e sis esglàri
An bèu mescla li pople, escafa li coufin,
La terro maire, la Naturo,
Nourris toujour sa pourtaduro
Dóu meme la : sa pousso duro
Toujour à l'óulivié dounara l'òli fin;
Amo de-longo renadivo,
Amo jouiouso e fièro e vivo,
Qu'endihes dins lou brut dóu Rose e dóu Rousau!
Amo di séuvo armouniouso
E di calanco souleiouso,
De la patrìo amo piouso,
T'apelle! encarno-te dins mi vers prouvençau!
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After I've sang the drama of a young maiden in love,
I'll
sing, if God wants, a son of Cassis,
a simple fisher of anchovies, who
with his skill and enthusiasm,
won the jewels, the empire, and the light
of mere love.
- Soul of my country,
you lightening, obvious, in both
its langage and legend;
you that, while Picard, German and
Burgundian barons
besieged Toulouse and Beaucaire,
inflamed, from all
parts of the country,
men of Marseilles and sons of Avignon;
you
that save our hope
because of the greatness of remembers;
you that in
youth, both warmer and more beautiful,
in spite of death and
gravediggers,
make revive once again our fathers's blood;
You, inspiring
loving poets,
then making blow like a great wind the voice of Mirabeau;
Despite secular floods, and tempests, and fears,
mixing peaples, erasing boundaries,
mother Earth, Nature,
always
nourishes its pups with
the same milk. Its tough breast
will always
provide mere oil to olive trees;
Ever reviving Soul,
joyful and proud and lively Soul,
whinnying in the sound of the Rhone and Rhone's wind!
Soul of melodious forests
and sunny creeks,
pious soul
of fatherland,
I call you! incarnate-you in my Provençal verses!
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LA BELLO D'AVOUST
A-n-Éugèni Tavernier , counseié à la court d'Ais
I
Margai de Vau-meirano,
Trefoulido d'amour,
Davalo dins la plano,
Dos ouro davans jour.
En descendènt la colo,
Es folo:
- Ai bèu, dis, lou cerca,
L'ai manca...
Ai ! tout moun cor tremolo.
Roussignoulet, cigalo, teisas-vous !
Ausès lou cant de la Bello d'Avoust
Margai es tant poulido
Que dins lou nivoulan
La luno ennivoulido
Au nivo a di bèn plan:
- Nivo, bèu nivo, passo,
Ma faço
Vòu leissa toumba 'n rai
Sus Margai:
Toun sourne m'embarrasso.
Roussignoulet, cigalo, teisas-vous !
Ausès lou cant de la Bello d'Avoust.
L'aucèu, dins la genèsto
Que brèsso si pichoun,
Alongo un pau la tèsto
Pèr vèi soun mourranchoun;
Mai de vèire que plouro,
S'aubouro,
E pèr la counsoula
I'a parla
Belèu mai de miechouro.
Roussignoulet, cigalo, teisas-vous !
Ausès lou cant de la Bello d'Avoust.
Enjusquo la luseto
Que lusi - Pauro fiheto,
Pren moun lume, se vos !
Cerques toun calignaire
Pecaire,
L'aguèsses di pulèu,
Moun calèu
Sarié 'sta toun menaire.
Roussignoulet, cigalo, teisas-vous !
Ausès lou cant de la Bello d'Avoust,
II
Margai de Vau-meirano
Fai tant do vai-e-vèn
Qu'à l'oumbro d'uno andano
A trouva lou jouvènt.
I'a di: - Desempièi l'aubo,
Ma rauto
Se bagno de mi plour:
Que d'amour
Pèr aquéu que me raubo !
Roussignoulet, cigalo, teisas-vous !
Ausès lou cant de la Bello d'Avoust.
La luno me guinchavo,
E d'un biais pietaclous
L'auceloun me parlavo
De tu, moun amourous;
Enjusquo la luseto,
Braveto,
Voulié de soun cousta
Me presta
Sa pichoto viheto.
Roussignoulet, cigalo, teisas-vous !
Ausès lou cant de la Bello d'Avoust.
Mai toun front es bèn sourne !
Dirias que sies malaut...
Bellas, vos que m'entourne
A moun oustau peirau ?
- S'ai tant la caro tristo,
Ma fisto,
Es qu'un negre tavan
En trevant
M'a 'spavourdi la visto.
Roussignoulet, cigalo, teisas-vous !
Ausès lou cant de laBello d'Avoust.
- Ta voues, douço coume èro,
Vuei sèmblo un tremoulun
Que trono souto terro...
Iéu n'ai de frejoulun.
- Se ma voues es tant rauco,
Viedauco,
Es que pèr t'espera,
M'ère tra
L'esquino sus la bauco.
Roussignoulet, cigalo, teisas-vous !
Ausès lou cant de la Bello d'Avoust.
- Mouriéu de languitòri,
Mai aro es de la pòu:
Un jour de raubatòri,
Bellas, as mes lou dòu !
- Se moun jargau soumbrejo,
Negrejo,
La niue noun fai pas mens,
E pamens
La niue tambèn clarejo.
Roussignoulet, cigalo, teisas-vous !
Ausès lou cant de la Bello d'Avoust
III
Quand l'estello dou pastre
Coumencè de pali,
E que lou rèi dis astro
Anavo tressali,
Tout d'un-cop se raubèron,
Sautèron
Sus un negre chivau,
E d'avau
Ensèmble partiguèron.
Roussignoulet, cigalo, teisas-vous !
Ausès lou cant de la Bello d'Avoust.
E lou chivau landavo
Sus lou camin peirous,
E la terro brandavo
Souto lis amourous;
E dison que li masco
Fantasco
Dansèron à l'entour
Jusqu'au jour,
En risènt coume d'asclo.
Roussignoulet, cigalo, teisas-vous !
Ausès lou cant de la Bello d'Avoust.
Adounc la luno blanco
S'ennivouliguè mai;
L'auceloun sus la branco
S'envoulè de l'esfrai;
Enjusquo la luseto,
Paureto,
Amoussé soun calèu,
E lèu, lèu,
S'amatè dins l'erbeto.
Roussignoulet, cigalo, teisas-vous !
Ausès lou cant de la Bello d'Avoust.
E dison qu'à la noço
De la pauro Margai,
Se taulejè pas foço,
Se riguè gaire mai;
E dison que li fianço,
Li danso,
Fuguèron dins un liò
Ount lou fiò
Se vesié di fendanço.
Roussignoulet, cigalo, teisas-vous !
Ausès lou cant de la Bello d'Avoust.
Valoun de Vau-meirano,
Camin di Baus, jamai
Pèr colo ni pèr plano
Veguerias plus Margai.
Sa maire dis sis Ouro
E plouro;
E noun vòu s'assoula
De parla
De sa bello pastouro.
Roussignoulet, cigalo, envoulas-vous !
Vaqui lou cant de la Bello d'Avoust.
1848.
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the Beauty of August
I
Margai of Valmayranne,
demented with love,
descends to the plain,
two
hours before sunrise.
While descending the hill,
she's mad:
- Although
I'm seeking him,
she says, I missed him...
Alas ! all my heart is
quivering.
Little nightingales, cicadas, be silent
!
Listen to the song of the Beauty of August
Margai is so beautiful
that in the
clouds,
the cloudy moon
has said very softly to the cloud:
- cloud,
beautiful cloud, go on,
my face
wants to let drop a ray
on Margai:
your
shade hampers me.
Little nightingales, cicadas, be silent
!
Listen to the song of the Beauty of August
The bird, in the broom,
rocking his
chicks,
hangs out a little his head,
for seeing her pretty face ;
but to
see her mourning,
he stands up,
and to comfort her,
he has spoken to
her,
perhaps more than half an hour.
Little nightingales, cicadas, be silent
!
Listen to the song of the Beauty of August
Even the glow worm,
that glitters: -
Poor little girl,
take my light, if you want!
You're seeking your lover,
alas!
If you'd told me earlier,
my lamp
would have been your guide.
Little nightingales, cicadas, be silent
!
Listen to the song of the Beauty of August
II
Margai de Vau-meirano
so wanders that
at least,
under a hayrick,
she found the boy.
Se told him: - Since
sunrise,
my cheek
is dripping my tears:
so much love
for the one who's
abducting me!
Little nightingales, cicadas, be silent
!
Listen to the song of the Beauty of August
The moon was spying at me,
and the
bird, so pityingly,
was talking me
about you, my love;
Even the glow worm,
so kind,
wanted by its own
to loan me
its little
lamp.
Little nightingales, cicadas, be silent
Listen to the song of the Beauty of August
However your forehead is so dark !
You
look like ill…
My beautiful, d'you want me to come back
to my father's
home ?
- If my face is so sad,
oh my beloved,
that's because a black
gadfly,
while wandering, frightened my sight.
Little nightingales, cicadas, be silent
!
Listen to the song of the Beauty of August
- Your voice, so sweet it was,
seems
now a quiver
thundering underground....
I'm shivering.
If my voice is so
raucous,
you stupid girl,
that's because while waiting for you
I was
laying
on my back in the grass.
Little nightingales, cicadas, be silent
!
Listen to the song of the Beauty of August
- I was deadly yearning,
but now I
deadly fear:
just on the day you'll abduct me,
my beautiful,
you're in
mourning!
- If my mantle is dark, gloomy,
so does the night.
Nonetheless,
night also brightens.
Little nightingales, cicadas, be silent
!
Listen to the song of the Beauty of August
III
While the shepherd's star
started
waning,
and the king of heavenly bodies
was going to shiver,
suddenly
they abducted themselves,
they jumped on a black horse
and downstream
together
they're gone away.
Little nightingales, cicadas, be silent
!
Listen to the song of the Beauty of August
And the horse was running
on the rocky
way
and the ground was quivering
under the lovers;
and they say that
witches,
fanciful,
danced around them,
until the day,
laughing like
cracks.
Little nightingales, cicadas, be silent
!
Listen to the song of the Beauty of August
Then the white moon
went more cloudy;
the little bird on the branch flied off; even the glow worm,
poor little
thing,
unlighted its lamp and soon, soon, hid in the little grass.
Little nightingales, cicadas, be silent
!
Listen to the song of the Beauty of August
And they say that at the wedding
of
poor Margai,
they didn't feast so much, they didn't laugh so much;
and
they say that the feast
and the dances
were in a place
where fire could
be seen in the slits.
Little nightingales, cicadas, be silent
!
Listen to the song of the Beauty of August
Dale of Valmayranne,
path of the Baux,
never, in hills and plains,
you've seen Margai anymore.
Her mother
prays and mourns;
and she doesn't want to stop talking
about her beautiful
shepherdess.
Little nightingales, cicadas, be silent
!
Listen to the song of the Beauty of August
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LA COUMTESSO
A Vitour Balaguer
Morta diuhen qu'es, mès
jo la crech viva.
BALAGUER.
I
Sabe, iéu, uno Coumtesso
Qu'es dóu sang emperiau:
En bèuta coume en autesso
Cren degun, ni liuen ni aut;
E pamens uno tristesso
De sis iue nèblo l'uiau.
Ah ! se me sabien entèndre
Ah ! se me voulien segui !
Elo avié cènt vilo forto,
Elo avié vint port de mar;
L'óulivié davans sa porto
Oumbrejavo, dous o clar;
E tout fru que terro porto
Ero en flour dins soun relarg.
Ah ! se me sabien entèndre!
Ah ! se me voulien segui !
Pèr l'araire e pèr l'eissado
Elo avié de plan de Diéu
E de colo ennevassado
Pèr se refresca, I'estiéu;
D'un grand flume l'arrousado,
D'un grand vènt lou soufle viéu.
Ah ! se me sabien entèndre !
Ah ! se me voulien segui !
Elo avié pèr sa courouno
Blad, oulivo emai rasin;
Avié de tauro ferouno
E de,chivau sarrasin;
E poudié, fièro barouno
Se passa de si vesin.
Ah ! se me sabien entèndre !
Ah ! se me voulien segui !
Tout lou jour cansounejavo,
Au balcoun, sa bello imour;
E cadun barbelejavo
De n'ausi quauco rumour,
Car sa voues èro tant siavo
Que fasié mouri d'amour.
Ah ! se me sabien entèndre !
Ah ! se me voulien segui !
Li troubaire, se devino,
Ié fasien grand coumpagnié;
Li fringaire à la plouvino
L'esperavon, matinié;
Mai, coume èro perlo fino,
Carivèndo se tenié.
Ah ! se me sabien entèndre !
Ah ! se me voulien segui !
Sèmpre pourtavo uno raubo
Facho de rai de soulèu;
Quau voulié counèisse l'aubo,
Vers la bello courrié lèu;
Mai uno oumbro aro nous raubo
La figuro e lou tablèu.
Ah ! se me sabien entèndre !
Ah ! se me voulien segui !
II
Car sa sorre, sa sourrastro,
Pèr eireta de soun bèn,
L'a clavado dins li clastro,
Dins li clastro d'un couvènt
Qu'es barra coume uno mastro
D'un avènt à l'autre avènt.
Ah ! se me sabien entèndre !
Ah ! se me voulien segui !
Aqui jouino emai carcano
Soun vestido egalamen
D'un plechoun de blanco lano
E d'un negre abihamen;
Aqui la memo campano
Règlo tout coumunamen.
Ah ! se me sabien entèndre !
Ah ! se me voulien segui !
Aqui, plus de cansouneto,
Mai de-longo lou missau;
Plus de voues galoio e neto,
Mai silènci universau:
Rèn que de cato-fanelo,
O de vièio à tres queissau.
Ah ! se me sabien entèndre !
Ah ! se me voulien segui!
Bloundo espigo de tousello,
Garo lou voulame tort !
A la noblo damisello
Canton li Vèspro de mort;
E 'm' acò l'on ie cisello
Sa cabeladuro d'or.
Ah ! se me sabien entèndre !
Ah ! se me voulien segui !
Or la sorre que l'embarro
Segnourejo d'enterin;
E d'envejo, la barbaro,
I' a 'sclapa si tambourin,
E de si vergié s'emparo
E ie vendémio si rin.
Ah ! se me sabien entèndre !
Ah ! se me voulien segui !
E la fai passa pèr morto,
Sèns poudé ié maucoura
Si fringaire - que pèr orto
Aro van, despoudera...
E ié laisso en quauco sorto
Que si bèus iue pèr ploura.
Ah ! se me sabien entèndre !
Ah ! se me voulien segui !
III
Aquéli qu'an la memòri,
Aquéli qu'an lou cor aut,
Aquéli que dins sa bòri
Sènton giscla lou mistrau,
Aquéli qu'amon la glòri,
Li valènt, li majourau,
Ah ! se me sabien entèndre !
Ah ! se me voulien segui !
En cridant: Arasso ! Arasso !
Zóu ! li vièi e li jouvènt,
Partirian tóutis en raço
Emé la bandiero au vènt,
Partirian coume uno aurasso
Pèr creba lou grand couvènt !
Ah ! se me sabien entèndre !
Ah! se me voulien segui!
E demoulirian li clastro
Ounte plouro jour-e-niue,
Ounte jour-e-niue s'encastro
La moungeto di bèus iue...
Mau-despié de la sourrastro,
Metrian tout en dès-e-vue !
Ah ! se me sabien entèndre !
Ah ! se me voulien segui !
Penjarian pièi l'abadesso
I grasiho d'alentour
E dirian à la Coumtesso:
"Reparèisse, o resplendour !
Foro, foro la tristesso !
Vivo, vivo la baudour ! "
Ah ! se me sabien entèndre !
Ah ! se me voulien segui !
22 d'Avoust, 1866.
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The Countess
I
I know of a great Countess
Of imperial lineage:
Her beauty and noble birth
Fear no rival, far off nor
High-placed. And yet a sadness
Clouds the splendour of her eyes.
If they could only hear my voice!
If they would only follow me!
She ruled a hundred strong towns
And twenty sea-ports besides.
The olive tree at her door
Offered light and pleasant shade
And all the fruits of the earth
Flowered freely in her parks.
If they could only hear my voice!
If they would only follow me!
For the plough and the harrow
She had plains blessed by the Lord.
She had snow-covered mountains
For fresh cool air in summer,
A great river, for water,
The strong breath of a great wind.
If they could only hear my voice!
If they would only follow me!
The crown that she wore was of
Wheat and olives and raisins
She had spirited heifers
She had Saracen horses
She needed not rely, proud
Baroness, on her neighbours.
If they could only hear my voice!
If they would only follow me!
On the balcony, all day
She would sing of her happiness
And each and every man yearned
To catch a strain of it, for
Her voice was so enchanting
It caused men to die of love.
If they could only hear my voice!
If they would only follow me!
Poets, as might well be thought,
Clustered ever around here;
In the early morning rain
Suitors waited, hoped for her;
But, as she was a rare pearl
She valued herself highly.
If they could only hear my voice!
If they would only follow me!
The dress that she always wore
Was made from rays of sunlight;
Anyone who longed for dawn
Hurried to the fair lady;
But a shadow now robs us
Of her face and this picture.
If they could only hear my voice!
If they would only follow me!
II
For her sister - half-sister -
To steal her inheritance
Has shut her in the cloister,
The cloister of a convent
Locked tight as a strong-box
From one Advent to the next.
If they could only hear my voice!
If they would only follow me!
In that place, all the women,
Young and old, are dressed alike
In a veil made of white wool
And a habit of black cloth.
In that place, one bell orders
Everything and everyone.
If they could only hear my voice!
If they would only follow me!
In that place, no more singing
Only long hours spent in prayer.
No more clear, joyful voices
Only unbroken silence.
Nothing but pious hypocrites
And old crones with toothless gums.
If they could only hear my voice!
If they would only follow me!
Ear of wheat shining golden
Beware of the curved sickle!
Now to the noble lady
They sing Vespers for the Dead
And with their scissors they cut
All her flaxen tresses off.
If they could only hear my voice!
If they would only follow me!
And meanwhile, her false sister
Who holds her captive, holds sway.
Moved by a savage desire
She destroys her tambourines
And she seizes her orchards
And she harvests all her grapes
If they could only hear my voice!
If they would only follow me!
And she claims that she is dead
Though she cannot discourage
Her lovers, who, powerless,
Wander for now through the fields.
She leaves nothing to her, but
Her beautiful eyes to weep.
If they could only hear my voice!
If they would only follow me!
III
Those of us who remember,
Those of us with noble hearts,
Those of us who, within our
Walls, feel the Mistral's sharp breath,
Those of us who love glory,
The valiant, our leaders,
If they could only hear my voice!
If they would only follow me!
Crying out, 'Make way, make way!'
Old and young in company
We would set out together
With our banner flying high
And sweep off like a whirlwind
To destroy the great convent.
If they could only hear my voice!
If they would only follow me!
And we would tear down the walls
Inside which weeps night and day -
Night and day is imprisoned -
The nun with beautiful eyes.
In spite of the half-sister
We would turn all upside-down!
If they could only hear my voice!
If they would only follow me!
Then we would hang the abbess
From the railings all around
And we would tell the Countess:
'Shine forth again in splendour!
Away, away with sadness,
Long, long may we be joyful.'
If they could only hear my voice!
If they would only follow me!
August 22, 1866.
translation: Louise Esher
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