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Peire Vidal 283  Peire Vidal (ca. 1175–1205) From the Vida Canso I suck deep in air come from Provence to here: All things from there so please me, when I hear In dockside taverns traveler’s gossip told, I listen smiling, And for each word ask a hundred smiling words— all news is good For no man knows so sweet a country as from the Rhône down to Vence. If only I were locked between Durance and the sea: Such pure joy shines with the sun there. I left my heart-for-rejoicing there among noble people, And with her who bids my sadness dance. No man can ever pass a day in boredom who has remembrance of her, For in her is the beginning and birth of all joy. And he who would praise her, No matter how well he speak of her, he lies; For the world shall not look on one better or fairer. And if there is aught I know to say or do, I merit no praise from it, For in her is all Good; and through Her have I wit and knowledge of fulfilment; Hence I am both a poet and happy, And all I make which has in it any fineness 284 Provençal I have from the rich delight of her fine body Even as my heart longs for her in straightness. Paul Blackburn, 1952 ...


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