The Trobairitz, or women troubadours

Na Bieiris de Romans (Lady Bieris of Romans)

There is no vida for Bieris de Romans; even her name may not have been correctly transmitted (was it perhaps Beatris?). This is the only troubadour poem we know of which appears to have been written both by and for a woman. It's also the only poem by Bieris to have survived, so far as we know.

Na Maria, prètz e fina valors

Na Maria, you are a prize, you are precious
and joy and good sense and precious beauty
and gracious welcome and honor
and gentle words and charming company 
and sweet face and cheerful presence
and sweet gaze and lovely looks
all these things inhabit you, incomparable
they draw my trusting heart to you.
 
I beg you, please, let Fin' Amors
delight and sweet humility
give me the help I need with you,
give me, lovely Lady, please
what I hope most to enjoy:
you are my heart and my desire
all my pleasure lies in you
I moon around and sigh for you.
 
Your beauty and your preciousness
raise you far, no one's  like you
I beg you, please, for your own honor
don't go and love some cheating man.
 
Lovely Lady, precious, joyful,
gentle voice, I send my song
delight and happiness lie in you
and all good things that make a lady.
 

Na Castelosa (Lady Castelloza)

Vida: "Lady Castelosa was from Auvergne, of noble family, married to Turc de Meyronne.She loved lord Armand de Bréon and composed her songs for him. She was a gay lady, well-educated and very beautiful."

Mout avètz fach lonc estatge

 
You've let a long time slip away
lover, since you left me
it's hard for me, it's agony
you swore and you promised
all the days of your life 
you'd never have another lady.
And if you're after someone else
you've killed me you've betrayed me
I believed you would love me
without any doubt.
 
Bel ami, my heart's been true
ever since you pleased me first
I know I seem crazy
but it's all so strange
because I never did you wrong.
Love has such a hold on me
I can't believe in happiness
if I don't have your love.
 
I set a strange example
for other women in love--
it's mostly the man who sends a message
in picked and chosen words
but I can imagine I'm cured, lover
courting you with words.  It pleases me
a better woman would turn to water
if she had from you a kiss or two
or an embrace.
 
Damn it, my heart  
was never fickle, I was never unfaithful.
I never wanted any other lover
no matter how fine.  Oh no, 
I'm pensive and bitter
that you forget my loving.
If I don't have some joy from you
you'll find me dead someday. 				trobaretz
A tiny wound can kill a lady 
if there's no man to heal her.
 
For all the pain and all the damage
that you've done to me 
my family thanks you
especially my husband.
For every time you've failed me
I forgive you freely.
I beg you, just come back to me
once you've heard my song
my promise you'll find					trobetz
a warm welcome here.
 
 

Amics, s'ie'us trobès avinen

 
My friend, if you'd been kind to me
humble, truthful, merciful
I'd love you well-- but now I come to think of it
you've been mean to me, cruel and treacherous
I make my songs to tell the world
your great nobility and I can't stand it
not to have them all praise you
when you're most cruel and harsh to me.
 
I can't think you worthy
I can't give my heart and my good faith
until I find out if it helps my case
to to be cold and hard-hearted to you.
But I'll never do it, I don't want
to hear you say my heart was ever false 
then you'd have a good excuse
if I failed you some way.
 
I know that this is what to do-- 
they say it's inappropriate
for a lady to beg a knight herself
and make such long appeals to him, 
but they don't know the joy of love.
I want to prove, before I die
that begging makes me live again
begging the one who injures me.
 
They're fools to blame me 
because I love you.  It feels so good
they don't know how it feels inside.
I don't see you as I saw you
when you told me not to worry
that at any moment it could happen 
I could feel delight again--
and I do feel it in those words.
 
I don't want another lover.
You know no joy sustains me
except for yours which makes me light
makes me alive when most I feel
the pain of it, the grief.
I take my pleaseure and my joy 
from you, my friend, though I can't change you
I have no pleasure, and no joy 
except when I'm asleep.
 
I don't know how to act with you.
wishing good and wishing ill
I've studied your hard heart
the heart I can't give up. 
I'm not sending you this, I say it myself:
give me some hope because this hurts--
if you let me die, it will be a sin.
I will be tormented then
but you'll be the one damned.
 
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