Geoffrey Chaucer, To Rosamund - (A Minimalist Translation) Poem by Forrest Hainline

Geoffrey Chaucer, To Rosamund - (A Minimalist Translation)

Madame, you be of all beauty shrine
As far as circled is the mappamund,
For as the crystal glorious you shine,
And like ruby be your cheeks round.
Therewith you be so merry and so jocund,
That at a revel when that I see you dance,
It is an ointment unto my wound,
Though you to me not do no dalliance.

For though I weep of tears full a tyne,
Yet may that woe my heart not confound;
Your seemly voice, that you so small out-twine
Makes my thought in joy and bliss abound.
So courteously I go, with love bound,
That to myself I say, in my penance,
Suffiseth me to love you, Rosamund,
Though you to me not do no dalliance.

No never pike wallowed in galantine
As I in love am wallowed and am wound,
For which full oft I of myself divine
That I am truly Tristan the second.
My love may not refreyd be nor a found
I burn aye in amorous pleasure.
Do what you list, I will your thrall be found,
Though you to me not do no dalliance.

© 2013 Forrest Hainline