Riches d'amour (Guillaume de Machaut)

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  • 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.
  • 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: SecularChanson

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

Published:

Description:

External websites:

Original text and translations

French.png 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.png 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.