Riches d'amour (Guillaume de Machaut)

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• (Posted 2007-09-10)  CPDL #14921:         

Editor: Brian Russell (submitted 2007-09-10).   Score information: A4, 3 pages, 23 kB   Copyright: CPDL

Edition notes: NoteWorthy Composer file may be viewed and printed with NoteWorthy Composer Viewer.

• (Posted 2006-03-22)  CPDL #11310:         

Editor: Andreas Stenberg (submitted 2006-03-22).   Score information: A4, 2 pages, 168 kB   Copyright: CPDL

Edition notes: Text underlay and phrasing suggested.

General Information

Title: Riches d'amour
Composer: Guillaume de Machaut

Number of voices: 2vv   Voicing: AT
Genre: Secular, Chanson

Language: French
Instruments: Voice AT a Capella or Voice and instrument

First published:
Description: 

Original text and translations

French text Riches d'amour et mandians d'amie, Povres d'espoir et garnis de desir, Pleins de dolour et disiteux j'aÿe, Loing de merci, famileux de mesir, Nulz de tout ce qui me puet resjoïr Sui pour amer et de mort en paour, Quant ma dame me het et je l'aour. N'il n'est confors de ma grief maladie Qui me puist de nulle part venir, Car une amour s'est en mon cuer nourrie Dont je ne puis jouir ne repentir Ne vivre lié ne mourir ne garir Ne bien avoir fors languir à dolour, Quant ma dame ne het et je l'aour. Mais li voloir de si douce anemie Vueil humblement et liement souffrir, Car grant honnour m'est par li ottroïe Contre son gré, quant je l'aim et desir. Et s'Amour vuet que je doie fenir Pour li amer, ce sera mon meillour, Quant ma dame ne het et je l'aour.

English translation Rich in love and begging for a lover, Impoverished of hope and filled with desire, Full of grief and destitute I am Far from thanks, starved of what I deserve, Bare of everything that could bring me joy, Because of love I am in fear of death, Since my lady hates me and I adore her. There is no comfort for my grievous malady, It cannot come to me from any quarter, Since I nourish such a love in my heart From which I cannot have joy nor release, Nor live in delight, nor die, nor heal, Nor possess anything good, only longing and pain, Since my lady hates me and I adore her. But the whims of so sweet an enemy I will humbly and happily suffer, For I derive great honor From loving her, even against her will. And if Love requires that I must end, Then that bitterness will be my mistress, Since my lady hates me and I adore her.