Bernard De Ventadorn Great Poems

  • 1.
    Bel m'es can eu vei la bròlha
    reverdir per mei lo brolh
    e.lh ram son cubert de folha
    e.l rossinhols sotz de folh
    ...
  • 2.
    En cossirer et en esmai
    sui d'un amor que.m lass'e.m te,
    que tan no vau ni sai ni lai
    qu'ilh ades no.m tenh' en so fre,
    ...
  • 3.
    Amics Bernartz de Ventadorn,
    com vos podetz de chant sofrir,
    can aissi auzetz esbaudir
    lo rossinholet noih e jorn?
    ...
  • 4.
    Pois preyatz me, senhor,
    qu'eu chan, eu chantarai;
    e can cuit chantar, plor
    a l'ora c'o essai.
    ...
  • 5.
    Era.m cosselhatz, senhor,
    vos c'avetz saber e sen:
    una domna.m det s'amor,
    c'ai amada lonjamen;
    ...
  • 6.
    Non es meravelha s'eu chan
    melhs de nul autre chantador,
    que plus me tra.l cors vas amor
    el melhs sui faihz a so coman.
    ...
  • 7.
    When I see the lark joyfully moving its wings against the sun's rays, and falling because of the sweetness that enters its heart, ah! a great envy comes upon me of all those who I see happy. I am astonished that my heart does not melt with desire.
    Alas! I thought I knew so much about love, and I know so little, because I cannot stop loving the one from whom I will never obtain anything. She has taken my heart, myself, herself, and the whole world, and has left me with nothing but yearning and a languishing heart.

    I no longer have power over myself, and am no longer my own person, from the moment when she lets me look into her eyes, that mirror that pleases me so. Mirror, since I am mirrored in you, my sighs have caused my death, for I am lost just as Narcissus lost himself in the fountain.
    ...
Total 7 Great Poems by Bernard De Ventadorn

Top 10 most used topics by Bernard De Ventadorn

Love 14 I Love You 14 Lady 11 Car 11 Heart 9 Good 8 God 8 Great 7 Joy 7 Desire 7

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Poem of the day

Andrew Lang Poem
Ballade Of The Midnight Forest
 by Andrew Lang

Still sing the mocking fairies, as of old,
Beneath the shade of thorn and holly-tree;
The west wind breathes upon them, pure and cold,
And wolves still dread Diana roaming free
In secret woodland with her company.
'Tis thought the peasants' hovels know her rite
When now the wolds are bathed in silver light,
And first the moonrise breaks the dusky grey,
...

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