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Geoffrey Chaucer
1342 - 1400
(Äæåôðè ×îñåð)
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ÊÐÀÑÎÒÀ ÁÅÇÆÀËÎÑÒÍÀß |
MERCILES BEAUTE
1.Captivity
Your yen two wol slee me sodenly,
I may the beaute of hem not sustene,
So woundeth hit through-out my herte kene.
And but your word wol Helen hastily
My hertes wounde, whyl that hit is grene,
Your yen two wol slee me sodenly,
I may the beaute of hem not sustene.
Upon my trouthe I sey yow faithfully,
That ye ben of my lyf and deeth the queen
For with my deeth the trouthe shal be sene.
Your yen two wol slee me sodenly,
I may the beaute of hem not sustene,
So woundeth hit through-out my herte kene.
2.Rejection
So hath your beaute fro your herte chaced
Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne;
For Daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne.
Giltes my deeth thus han ye me purchaced;
I sey yow sooth, me nedeth not to feyne;
So hath your beaute fro your herte chaced
Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne.
Allas! That nature hath in yow compassed
So greet beaute; that no man may atteyne
To mercy, though he sterve for the peyne.
So hath your beaute fro your herte chaced
Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne;
For Daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne.
3. Escape
Sin I fro Love escaped am so fat,
I never thenk to ben in his prison lene;
Sin I am free, I counte him not a bene.
He may answere, and seye this or that;
I do no fors, I speke right as I mene.
Sin I fro Love escaped am so fat,
I never thenk to ben in his prison lene;
Love hath my name y-strike out of his sclat,
And he is strike out of my bokes clene
For ever-mo; ther is non other mene.
Sin I fro Love escaped am so fat,
I never thenk to ben in his prison lene;
Sin I am free, I counte him not a bene.
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© 2001 Elena and Yacov Feldman