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Click to printJordi de Sant Jordi. ""Underneath my forehead I carry your beautiful image"." Global Medieval Sourcebook.

Transcription By by Albert Lloret .

"Jus lo front port vostra bella semblança" | "Underneath my forehead I carry your beautiful image"

Source Information

"Jus lo front port vostra bella semblança" | "Underneath my forehead I carry your beautiful image"

by Jordi de Sant Jordi

Text Source:

Zaragoza, Biblioteca de la Universidad de Zaragoza, MS 210, fol. 98v-99r

Responsibility Statement:
  • Transcription By by Albert Lloret
  • Translation by Albert Lloret
  • Encoded in TEI P5 XML by Danny Smith
Editorial Principles:

Transcriptions and translations are encoded in XML conforming to TEI (P5) guidelines. The original-language text is contained within <lem> tags and translations within <rdg> tags.

Texts are translated into modern American English with maximum fidelity to the original text, except where it would impair comprehension or good style. Archaisms are preserved where they do not conflict with the aesthetic of the original text. Scribal errors and creative translation choices are marked and discussed in the critical notes.

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Published by The Global Medieval Sourcebook.

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Transcription
Jus lo front port vostra bella semblança, Underneath my forehead I carry your beautiful image,
de que mon cors nit e jorn fa gran festa; That’s why I celebrate you, night and day;
que, remiran la molt bella figura, For, by looking at your beautiful figure,
de vostre ffaç m’es romassa l’empremta, A trace of your face has remained in me.
5
que ja per mort no se’n partra la forma, Its shape won’t go away when I die,
ans, quant seray del tot fores d’est segle, Instead, when I will have entirely left this earthly life,
cels qui lo cors portaran al sepulcre, Those who will bring my body to the tomb
sobre me faç, veuran lo vostre signe. Will find your sign on my face.
Si com l’infants quant mira lo retaula Like the little kid who watches the altarpiece
10
e, contemplant la pintur·ab himatges, And contemplates the painting and its images
ab son net cor, no lo·n poden gens partre With a pure heart, and doesn’t want to separate from it
(tant ha plasser de l’aur qui ll’environa), (So much does he enjoy the gold that surrounds it),
atressi·m pren devan l’amoros sercle That’s how I feel when I’m in front of the love circle
de vostre cors, que de tants bens s’anrama, Of your figure, for it’s embellished with so many qualities
15
que, mentre·l vey, mas que Deu lo contemple; That, while I’m watching it, I contemplate it better than God;
tant hay de joy per amor qui·m penetre. This love that penetrates me brings me so much joy.
Aixi·m te pres e liatz en son carçre That’s how he has me, captive and tied up, in his jail,
amors ardents, com si·stes en hun coffre, This ardent Love, as if I were inside a chest,
tancat jus claus, e tot mon cors fos dintre, Locked in, all of me inside,
20
on no pusques mover per null encontre. Without a chance to break out.
Car tant es grans l’amor que us ay, e ferme, So big is my love for you, and so steadfast,
que lo meu cor no·s part punt per angoxa, That my heart won’t move away, not one bit, out of anguish,
bella, de vos, ans es ·say ferm com torres From you, beautiful one, but will rather be strong as a tower
e sol amar a vos, blanxa colomba. And will only love you, white dove.
25
Bella sens par, ab la pressensa noble, Unmatched beauty of noble presence,
vostre bel cors bell fech Deu sobre totas, God made your pretty body superior to any other,
gays e donos, lluu pus que fina pedre, Gay and gentle, brighter than a gemstone,
amoros, bels, plus penetrans que stella; Loving, beautiful, more penetrating than a star;
d’on, quan vos vey ab les autres en flota, For, when I spot you among other people,
30
les jusmetets
n
Note:

Correcting iustametz.

si com fay lo carvoncles, You subdue them as does the carbuncle,
que de virtuts les finas pedres passa: Which surpasses the qualities of any gemstone;
vos etz sus ley com l’estors sus l’esmirle. You are above them like the goshawk is above the merlin.
L’amor que us hay en totes les part[s] m’ascle My love for you is splintering every part of me
quan non amech pus coralment nuls homens; For no one has ever loved so sincerely;
35
tan fort·amor, com cesta que·l cor m’obre, Such a strong love, like this one that opens my heart,
ne fonch
n
Note:

Correcting fonchs.

jamays en nul cors d’hom ne arme. Has never been in anyone’s body or soul.
Mas suy torbats que no fonch Aristotills, I am more upset than Aristotle ever was
d’amor, qui m’art e mos sinch senys desferme. For love, which burns me and unleashes my five senses.
Co·l monjos bos que no·s part de la setla, Like the good monk who does not leave his cell,
40
no·s part mon cors da vos, tant com dits d’ungle. My heart does not move away from you, like the finger from the nail.
Ho, cors donos, net de frau e delicte, Oh, gentle lady, clean of deceit and offenses,
prenets de me pietats, bela dona, Have pity on me, beautiful lady,
e no suffrats quez aman-vos peresca, And don’t allow that I die by loving you,
pus qu·eu vos am may que nulls homs afferme, For I love you more than anyone could affirm;
45
per que us suppley a vos, qu·etz le bells arbres That is why I beg you—since you are the handsome tree
de tots bos fruyts, hon valors grans pren s·ombre, Of all good fruits, where the high Worth rest on its shade—
que·m retenyats en vostra valent cambre, To keep me in your prized chamber,
pus vostre suy e seray tant com visque. For I am yours, and so will I be for as long as I live.
Mos richs balays, cert, vos portats le timbre My prized spinel, you certainly wear the crown
50
sus quantes son e·l mundenal registre, Over all women in the worldy registry
car tots jorns naix en vos cors, e revida, For every day are born in you, and revive,
bondats, virtuts, mes qu·en Pantasilea. Goodness and virtue, more than they ever did in Penthesilea.
Translation
Jus lo front port vostra bella semblança, Underneath my forehead I carry your beautiful image,
de que mon cors nit e jorn fa gran festa; That’s why I celebrate you, night and day;
que, remiran la molt bella figura, For, by looking at your beautiful figure,
de vostre ffaç m’es romassa l’empremta, A trace of your face has remained in me.
5
que ja per mort no se’n partra la forma, Its shape won’t go away when I die,
ans, quant seray del tot fores d’est segle, Instead, when I will have entirely left this earthly life,
cels qui lo cors portaran al sepulcre, Those who will bring my body to the tomb
sobre me faç, veuran lo vostre signe. Will find your sign on my face.
Si com l’infants quant mira lo retaula Like the little kid who watches the altarpiece
10
e, contemplant la pintur·ab himatges, And contemplates the painting and its images
ab son net cor, no lo·n poden gens partre With a pure heart, and doesn’t want to separate from it
(tant ha plasser de l’aur qui ll’environa), (So much does he enjoy the gold that surrounds it),
atressi·m pren devan l’amoros sercle That’s how I feel when I’m in front of the love circle
de vostre cors, que de tants bens s’anrama, Of your figure, for it’s embellished with so many qualities
15
que, mentre·l vey, mas que Deu lo contemple; That, while I’m watching it, I contemplate it better than God;
tant hay de joy per amor qui·m penetre. This love that penetrates me brings me so much joy.
Aixi·m te pres e liatz en son carçre That’s how he has me, captive and tied up, in his jail,
amors ardents, com si·stes en hun coffre, This ardent Love, as if I were inside a chest,
tancat jus claus, e tot mon cors fos dintre, Locked in, all of me inside,
20
on no pusques mover per null encontre. Without a chance to break out.
Car tant es grans l’amor que us ay, e ferme, So big is my love for you, and so steadfast,
que lo meu cor no·s part punt per angoxa, That my heart won’t move away, not one bit, out of anguish,
bella, de vos, ans es ·say ferm com torres From you, beautiful one, but will rather be strong as a tower
e sol amar a vos, blanxa colomba. And will only love you, white dove.
25
Bella sens par, ab la pressensa noble, Unmatched beauty of noble presence,
vostre bel cors bell fech Deu sobre totas, God made your pretty body superior to any other,
gays e donos, lluu pus que fina pedre, Gay and gentle, brighter than a gemstone,
amoros, bels, plus penetrans que stella; Loving, beautiful, more penetrating than a star;
d’on, quan vos vey ab les autres en flota, For, when I spot you among other people,
30
les jusmetets
n
Note:

Correcting iustametz.

si com fay lo carvoncles, You subdue them as does the carbuncle,
que de virtuts les finas pedres passa: Which surpasses the qualities of any gemstone;
vos etz sus ley com l’estors sus l’esmirle. You are above them like the goshawk is above the merlin.
L’amor que us hay en totes les part[s] m’ascle My love for you is splintering every part of me
quan non amech pus coralment nuls homens; For no one has ever loved so sincerely;
35
tan fort·amor, com cesta que·l cor m’obre, Such a strong love, like this one that opens my heart,
ne fonch
n
Note:

Correcting fonchs.

jamays en nul cors d’hom ne arme. Has never been in anyone’s body or soul.
Mas suy torbats que no fonch Aristotills, I am more upset than Aristotle ever was
d’amor, qui m’art e mos sinch senys desferme. For love, which burns me and unleashes my five senses.
Co·l monjos bos que no·s part de la setla, Like the good monk who does not leave his cell,
40
no·s part mon cors da vos, tant com dits d’ungle. My heart does not move away from you, like the finger from the nail.
Ho, cors donos, net de frau e delicte, Oh, gentle lady, clean of deceit and offenses,
prenets de me pietats, bela dona, Have pity on me, beautiful lady,
e no suffrats quez aman-vos peresca, And don’t allow that I die by loving you,
pus qu·eu vos am may que nulls homs afferme, For I love you more than anyone could affirm;
45
per que us suppley a vos, qu·etz le bells arbres That is why I beg you—since you are the handsome tree
de tots bos fruyts, hon valors grans pren s·ombre, Of all good fruits, where the high Worth rest on its shade—
que·m retenyats en vostra valent cambre, To keep me in your prized chamber,
pus vostre suy e seray tant com visque. For I am yours, and so will I be for as long as I live.
Mos richs balays, cert, vos portats le timbre My prized spinel, you certainly wear the crown
50
sus quantes son e·l mundenal registre, Over all women in the worldy registry
car tots jorns naix en vos cors, e revida, For every day are born in you, and revive,
bondats, virtuts, mes qu·en Pantasilea. Goodness and virtue, more than they ever did in Penthesilea.
Critical Notes
Transcription
Line number 30
Note:

Correcting iustametz.

Transcription
Line number 36
Note:

Correcting fonchs.

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