Lute

This entry is part 5 of 5 in the series Louise Labé

After Louise Labé, Sonnet XII

painting of a woman playing a lute by Matisse

Lute, you’ve always been there for me:
true friend in the worst of times,
companion of all my sorrows,

you’re my comforter when I weep.
I know my tears really get to you
because every tune becomes a lament,

every rising note plunges
to a melancholy key.
If I try to play something uplifting

you go silent on me.
Sad songs are all you let me sing
and they give me such sweet closure.


Lut, compagnon de ma calamité,

De mes soupirs témoin irreprochable,
De mes ennuis controlleur veritable,
Tu as souvent avec moy lamenté:

Et tant le pleur piteus t’a molesté,
Que commençant quelque son delectable,
Tu le rendois tout soudein lamentable,
Feignant le ton que plein avoit chanté.

Et si te veus efforcer au contraire,
Tu te destens & si me contreins taire:
Mais me voyant tendrement soupirer,

Donnant faveur à ma tant triste pleinte:
En mes ennuis me plaire suis contrainte,
Et d’un dous mal douce fin esperer.

 

Picture: Le luth, Henri Matisse (1943), which I didn’t know till last week – trying for a sort of poignant flatness in the poem, inspired by the vibrating flatness of the painting.
Louise Labé in Wikipedia.
More posts on Louise Labé here, here, here and here.

Series Navigation← Soulmate

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