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the works of olivier de bayonne

"my swete loue"

My swete loue, for thee wol I tak up swerde
And calenge ony who myghte the demonde.
Wondestow me with thy mercivol werde.
I ne sholde haue such loue so ner myn honde.
Yet hope I haue it, or elles me awerde
For ner ne liue kanne I but as thy bonde.

translation:

My sweet love, for you I will take up arms
And challenge any who might call you his own.
You wound me with your merciful words.
I do not deserve a love so close to me.
Yet, I hope it is real, or else I am lost
For I cannot live but as your servant.

explanation (razo):

This is a a Middle English translation of my Old French poem Ma bele amor. 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 OF 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 and voice of the broad 13th c. anonymous ME lyric repertoire.

©2005 Kevin Brock.