Vous perdez temps de me dire mal d'elle (Claudin de Sermisy)
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Edition notes: diplomatic edition of original partbooks: original keys, note values and text (revised and with translation added). MIDI file corrected.
This edition is based on the publication in the Livre Septième of 1644 (a century later!) by Dirk Janszoon Sweelinck, which is in its kernel a reprint of the Livre Septième de chansons à quatre parties (7th book of chansons for 4 voices) by Pierre Phalèse, 1560, in which the compositions were anonymous. Later attributions are often false.
(modernized spelling)
Vous perdez temps de me dire mal d'elle,
Gens qui voulez divertir mon entente:
Plus la blâmez, plus je la trouve belle.
S'ébahist on, si tant je m'en contente?: La fleur de sa jeunesse A votre avis rien n'est ce? N'est ce rien que ses grâces? Cessez vos grands audaces,
Car mon Amour vaincra votre médire:
Tel en médict, qui pour soi la désire.
English translation
Translation by Dick Wursten for understanding only
You're wasting your time, talking so evil about her.
You people, who want to loosen my bond:
The more you blame her, the more I like her.
Are you surprised that I'm content with her ? The beauty of her youth, Is that nothing ? And her gracefulness, does that not count ? Stop your impertinent brutalities,
For my Love will overcome all your evil talk :
Evil you talk, because you desire her yourself.
English translation
Translation by Thomas Daughton
You waste your time maligning her to me,
All you who wish to foil my intent:
The more you chide, the more her charms I see;
Why be amazed that I am so content? The flower of her youth No value hath, in truth? Her beauty’s but a stunt? Cease now your great affront,
For my true love will conquer your disdain:
It masks your thirst for what you can’t obtain.
German translation
Translation by Peter Rottländer
Ihr veschwendet Zeit, wenn ihr sie schlecht macht,
Ihr Leute, die ihr mein Verlangen zerstreuen wollt.
Je mehr ihr sie tadelt, desto schöner finde ich sie.
Verwundert es, wenn ich mit ihr zufrieden bin?
Die Blume ihrer Jugend,
Gilt sie für Euch nichts?
Ist ihre Anmut wertlos?
Beendet eure große Dreistigkeit,
Denn meine Liebe wird euren Spott besiegen:
Ihr redet schlecht von ihr, weil ihr sie begehrt.