Merciless Beaute
12/31/2008 12:40 p.m.
Yowr yen two woll sle me sodenly.
I may the beaute of them not sustene
So wondeth it thorow out my herte kene.

And but your word woll helen hastely
Mi hertis wound while that it is grene
Your yen [two woll sle me sodenly.
I may the beaute of them not sustene.]

Vpon my trouth I sey yow feithfully
That ye ben of my liffe and deth the quene,
For with my deth the trouth shalbe sene.
Your yen [two woll sle me sodenly.
I may the beaute of them not sustene
So wondeth it thorow out my herte kene.]

So hath yowr beaute fro your herte chased
Pitee that me nauailleth not to pleyn
For danger halt your mercy in his cheyne.

Giltles my deth thus han ye me purchaced,
I sey yow soth, me nedeth not to fayn,
So hath your beaute [fro your herte chased
Pitee that me nauailleth not to pleyn.]

Alas that nature hath in yow compased
So grete beaute that no man may atteyn
To mercy though he sterue for the peyn.
So hath your beaute [fro your herte chased
Pitee that me nauailleth not to pleyn
For danger halt your mercy in his cheyne.]

Syn I fro loue escaped am so fat
I neuere thenk to ben in his prison lene.
Syn I am fre, I counte hym not a bene.

He may answer and sey this and that.
I do no fors, I speke ryght as I mene,
Syn I fro loue [escaped am so fat
I neuere thenk to ben in his prison lene.

Loue hath my name istrike out of his sclat,
And he is strike out of my bokes clene.
For euer mo ther is non other mene,
Syn I fro loue [escaped am so fat
I neuere thenk to ben in his prison lene.
Syn I am fre, I counte hym not a bene.]

'Merciless Beaute' Geoffery Chaucer

TRANSLATION:

Your two eyes will slay me suddenly.
I cannot endure their beauty
So deeply does it wound my eager heart.
And unless your word will heal, without delay,
My heart's wound while it is new ...

On my oath, I tell you faithfully
That you're the queen of my life and death,
And in my dying will that truth be seen.

So has your beauty driven pity from your heart
That there's no good in me complaining,
So does disdain in his chain bind your mercy.

Just in this way you've paid for my innocent death,
I'm telling you the truth, I don't need to pretend.

Alas, how nature has drawn with compasses
In you such great beauty that no man may find
Mercy, even though he dies in pain.

Because I've escaped so plump from love,
I don't expect to be in his lean prison.
Being free, I don't give a pea for him.

He may reply and say this and that,
I don't care, I'm saying what I think.

Love has struck my name from his slate,
And he is stricken utterly from my books.
For evermore there is no other way.

I am currently Bad
I am listening to 1,000,000 - Nine Inch Nails