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the works of olivier de bayonne

"long wert thogh hene i saw afer"

Long wert thogh hene I saw afer
That ner coude mete thee, yet I stroue.
How swete thy taste, withoute per.
How swete thy garden scente of loue.

I cryed to the in my trauaile,
Lost but for hope of thy beautee.
Now do thy garden I assaile
With kisses that eer longer bee.

Grauntst me the loue I saw afer?
Myn herte wol burst if sayest nay.
I beg thee, giue thyself sans fer
And Ill with thee to my last day.

explanation (razo):

This is a a Middle English (well, to be honest it kind of spans Middle English to Early Modern English) translation of my Occitan poem Lonh fust un oasis distant mirei. I wrote this ME version for a book I printed and bound for Atlantian Twelfth Night AS XL; while I was more interested in the Occitan songs, I knew the book's reader base would not be - so I wanted to provide facing translations for those who might otherwise feel lost (or at least more lost than if they just read these ME poems). I did not base this on any particular lyric, but rather wanted to imitate the general style of the 14-15th c. anonymous ME lyric repertoire.

©2005 Kevin Brock.