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(c. 1343 – 25 October 1400 / London, England)

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Truth

Fle fro the pres, and dwelle with sothefastnesse,
Suffise thin owen thing, thei it be smal;
For hord hath hate, and clymbyng tykelnesse,
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Comments about this poem (Chaucers Wordes unto Adam by Geoffrey Chaucer )

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  • A Gra (3/18/2014 1:28:00 PM)

    In English, please?
    (I'm really flippin' confused right now...)

    2 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Alexander Opicho (3/18/2014 1:17:00 PM)

    sweet and power, may you rest in chaucer

  • Thomas Vaughan Jones (3/18/2014 1:14:00 PM)

    For once, words fail me. He was the greatest writer of his time. Probably because nobody else could write.
    .

  • Karen Sinclair (3/18/2014 2:37:00 AM)

    I love this. The oldest poem I have ever read. I used to read Shakespeare to my little lad from when he was 5ish. It helped me open my mind and get the gist and flow of this piece. It reads like an honest sermon of warning to the temptations of life... The more I read the more it becomes fluid in my mind.

  • Savita Tyagi (3/19/2012 11:58:00 AM)

    Thank you for the translation. Now I think I can enjoy the original too.

  • Ed Eleazer (4/22/2010 2:22:00 PM)

    Here is my own translation. A bit better than the other, but still exhibiting some scansion problems.

    Flee from the press, and dwell in truthfulness,
    Let your fortunes suffice, though they be small;
    For hoarding breeds hate, and status ambiguousness.
    The mob’s filled with envy and blinded by wealth overall.
    Desire only things which meet needs most crucial.
    Control yourself well, if you’d be others’ gauge;
    And the Truth shall you deliver, of that be not afraid.

    Haste not to redress all crookedness
    Placing trust in her who turns like a ball.
    Great good comes from spurning busy-ness;
    Beware then, not to kick against an awl;
    Don’t strive like a crock against a wall.
    To subdue others' deeds, you must yourself first tame,
    And the Truth shall you deliver, of that be not afraid.

    That which you’re sent, receive in humbleness;
    Wrestling after this World is just begging for a fall.
    This is no Home. It’s naught but Wilderness.
    Forth, Pilgrim, forth! Forth, beast, out of your stall!
    Know your true country! Look up! Thank God for all!
    Let your spirit lead, and hold to the High Way,
    And the Truth shall you deliver, of that be not afraid.

    [PS.]
    Therefore you, Vache, leave your old wretchedness;
    And cease now to the World to be enthralled.
    Beg from Him mercy, who in his great goodness
    Made you from nothing, and this above all —
    Draw unto him, and pray in general
    For yourself, and for others, heavenly grace;
    And the Truth shall you deliver, of that be not afraid.

  • Neil Young (3/18/2010 7:38:00 AM)

    I appreciate the google translation, although it misses the orginal rhyme royale scheme. A great poem. As appropriate today as it was then.

  • Joseph Poewhit (3/18/2010 1:34:00 AM)

    Old English - [ good grief Charlie Brown ]

  • Terence George Craddock (3/18/2010 1:32:00 AM)

    Wow this brings back memories. Thanks Kevin, lost without translation. Some ideals and problems are universal and timeless. Yesterdays drink drink was more fun: -)

  • Ramesh T A (3/18/2010 12:59:00 AM)

    Value of truth and advice to be so are really thought provoking to read! Message of Chaucer holds good even now!

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