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  • Текст песни The Early Music Consort of London - Chanterai Por Mon Corage

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    На этой странице находится текст песни The Early Music Consort of London - Chanterai Por Mon Corage, а также перевод песни и видео или клип.
    Chanterai por mon corage
    Que je vueill reconforter,
    Car avec mon grant damage
    Ne quier morir n'afoler,
    Quant de la terre sauvage
    Ne voi nului retorner
    Ou cil est qui m'assoage
    Le cuer, quant j'en oi parler.
    Dex, quant crieront Outree,
    Sire, aidies au pelerin
    Por cui sui espoentee,
    Car felon sunt Sarrazin.
    Soferrai en tel estage
    Tant quel voie rapasser.
    Il est en pelerinage,
    Dont Dex le lait retorner !
    Et maugre tot mon lignage
    Ne quier ochoison trover
    D'autre face mariage ;
    Folz est qui j'en oi parler !
    Dex, quant crieront Outree,
    Sire, aidies au pelerin
    Por cui sui espoentee,
    Car felon sunt Sarrazin.
    De ce sui au cuer dolente
    Que cil n'est en Biauvoisis
    Qui si sovent me tormente :
    Or n'en ai ne gieu ne ris.
    S'il est biaus, et je sui gente.
    Sire, Dex, por quel feis ?
    Quant l'uns a l'autre atalente,
    Por coi nos as departis ?
    Dex, quant crieront Outree,
    Sire, aidies au pelerin
    Por cui sui espoentee,
    Car felon sunt Sarrazin.
    De ce sui en bone atente
    Que je son homage pris,
    Et quant la douce ore vente
    Que vient de cel douz pais
    Ou cil est qui m'atalente,
    Volontiers i tor mon vis :
    Adont m'est vis que jel sente
    Par desoz mon mantel gris.
    Dex, quant crieront Outree,
    Sire, aidies au pelerin
    Por cui sui espoentee,
    Car felon sunt Sarrazin.
    De ce sui mout decue
    Que ne fui au convoier ;
    Sa chemise qu'ot vestue
    M'envoia por embracier :
    La nuit, quant s'amor m'argue,
    La met delez moi couchier
    Mout estroit a ma char nue
    Por mes malz assoagier
    Dex, quant crieront Outree,
    Sire, aidies au pelerin
    Por cui sui espoentee,
    Car felon sunt Sarrazin.
    "chanson de croissades, XIII? siecle"

    I will sing to comfort my heart,
    For I do not want to die
    Or go mad from my great loss,
    When I see that no one returns
    From that foreign land,
    Where the man is who
    Brings solace to my heart
    When I hear him spoken of.
    God, When they cry 'Onward'
    Give Your help to that pilgrim
    For whom my heart trembles,
    For the saracens are treacherous.
    I shall bear my loss
    Until I have seen a year go by,
    He is on a pilgrimage;
    May God grant that he return from it!
    But, in spite of all my family,
    I do not intend to marry any other.
    Anyone who even speaks to me of it
    Is a fool.
    God, When they cry 'Onward'
    Give Your help to that pilgrim
    For whom my heart trembles,
    For the saracens are treacherous.
    However, I am hopeful
    Because I accepted his homage.
    And when the sweet wind
    Blows which comes from that sweet country
    Where is the man whom I desire,
    Then I turn my face toward it gladly,
    And it seems to me that I can feel him
    Beneath my mantle of fur.
    God, When they cry 'Onward'
    Give Your help to that pilgrim
    For whom my heart trembles,
    For the saracens are treacherous.
    I regret very much that I was not there
    To set him on the road.
    He sent me his shirt which he had worn,
    So that I might hold it in my arms.
    At night, when love for him tormets me,
    I place it in bed beside me
    And hold it all night against my bare skin
    To assuage my pains.
    God, When they cry 'Onward'
    Give Your help to that pilgrim
    For whom my heart trembles,
    For the saracens are treacherous.

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