The other night I began tinkering with Lancelot’s adventure with the flying chess board. While this has absolutely nothing to do with my current research efforts, having acquired transcriptions of the manuscript I wish to work with, and no longer handicapped by the itsy bitsy pictures of the manuscript, I have found a translator’s paradise, randomly translating passages that I find most interesting. If you know me, you will know my predilection towards chess in medieval literature, making that particular passage all the more enticing. I do plan on blogging my findings soon, but that strand of research is a little more involving, meaning, it would not be feasible right now (of course in an ideal Christene-land I would just spend numerous  hours each day until I have translated the entire series and followed my whims of research into all crevices of rather “trivial” pursuits… *sigh*) Anyway, while running some searches to that end, I came across a mention of Clement Marot, and his “De la jeune Dame qui a vieil mary,” and it instantly reminded me of another poem someone had mentioned over a year ago.

First, here is Marot’s poem, with my translation:

(Side note: A huge thanks to Jenni Nuttall and Sjoerd Levelt who helped me figure out how to put columns in my blog – and I really hope this comes across everyone else’s screen as well).

Since many of the French ballads and chansons are found online, I looked this one up. While I could not find this particular one, I did find several by Clement Marot, performed by George Enescu at l’Accademia di Romania.

Clement Marot has an interesting history and brought much to the French literary tradition, which appears to be a constant with several authors of the time period (e.g. Francois Villon and Charles D’Orleans – who predate him a bit, but are still within range). However, his work departs from those of the previous generation as he is considered to have greatly influence the Pleiade poets through his various experiments with forms. This is immediately evident from his language that celebrates life not like the duke of Orleans who fixates on its juxtaposition to death, nor like Villon, whose poetry is in line with a memento mori. Rather, he abandons these motifs, as well as the artificial archaism that was currently popular. In doing so, the poem, though written circa 1532 is extremely easy to read. For example, while I comment that this is my translation above, it is not terribly different from others – there are very few ways you can translate his straightforward words that bear only slight connotations, and for the most part rely on dictionary definitions.

This particular poem was written only a little over a year before he left France, having now been put in jail twice for supposedly having eaten bacon publicly during Lent. Once he made his way out of France (another commonality between himself and Villon and the duke of Orleans), he composed the Blasons du corps feminin that, just like they sound, glorified the feminine body and also brought him infamy.

(Clement Marot, portrait by Corneille de Lyon)

However, as I mentioned, reading Marot’s poem reminded me of another. I am referring to the anonymous 13th century female troubadour ballad, Coindeta sui. This is in no way related to my immediate research, but is far more in line with it (concerning the idea of women finding a means of expression and participating in literary culture), and if nothing else, it serves as a good exercise in translation. When I chanced upon this poem a while back it had already been translated, but I looked up the original and realized the translation I had found was more of a recreation than a pure translation (although it was beautifully done). I have rather pedantic tendencies in my translations, so I thought I would attempt a truer version of the poem, even if it is not as beautiful as the other, and certainly nowhere near as melodic as the original. In fact, after looking up the poem to gain insight into its origin and history, several scholars refused to translate it, believing such an endeavor would be superfluous and destructive to the quality of the original. Nevertheless, here it is:

Sources:

Chambers, Frank M. An Introduction to Old Provencal Versification. Volume 167.

Medieval Oral Literature. ed. Karl Reichl.

Medieval Women’s Song: Cross-cultural Approaches. eds. Klinck, Anne L. and Ann Marie Rasmussen.

Ouvres Completes de Clement Marot, available from the Harvard Library via Google Books.

Songs of the Women Troubadours. eds. Bruckner, Matilda T, Laurie Shepard, and Sarah White.