Observation. Recognition. Interpretation. Translation is action. Generally, my action stance is to stick as close as possible to the original text. I sometimes favor a slightly clunky or roundabout English in order to accomplish this goal. Other times, as in “Song,” the choices are forced because of grammar and syntax, or vocabulary, or erasure concerns.
Decisions further afield from the literal translation were my interpretation of the grammar of “mes maris” in the first line, subsequently repeated, which translates to “my husbands,” plural, in English. However, the verb “me bat” (“beats me”) is singular. I chose to stick with one husband, a choice reinforced by the old French third-person singular indirect object pronoun “li.” I also chose to replace “beat,” repetitive violence, with “strike,” a single effort.
The word “lassette”–old French for which there is no single word in modern French–means “unhappy as I am.” I translated it as “forlorn thing that I am.” I wanted to keep the music, coquettish meter, and rhyme of “Song,” while respecting the archaic French of the original.
The author is “unknown”–an erasure from history, to be sure; still, I felt inclined to make a gender determination. Twelfth-century French lyric poetry, most authored by men, tends to topics of Crusade-glory or allegories idealizing courtly love interspersed with Troubadour ballads which blend caprice and humor. “Song’s” speaker is strong and cheeky. She stands up and strikes back.
Read the poem this note is about, “Song.”
Charlotte Davidson farms organically in California. Her writing and translations have appeared in many publications. She lived in Paris for many years.