From Chaucer's ‘Against Women Unconstant'
Lo! in her obsessiveness
Many a man has lost his grace.
Now I depart from her inconstantness.
For well I know while in her space
She cannot Love a seasons trace;
For stranger things she seeks desirously keen
Now Instead of blue,
Off she walks in shades of green.
To gaze in her mirror with all to impress
As nearer she revels, so must she pass.
Soon knowing her charms will gather new witness
There is no trust for the heart to embrace.
And like a peacock swift pivots her face
Her thousand eyes she hides in feathers unseen
now instead of blue,
Of she struts in velvet green.
She shall be enshrined upon her fickleness
Higher than Delilah, Creceda, or Cadence.
Remains forever changing in her in-constantness
Nor blemishes her cheek in pale forgiveness.
If I walk on, we might renew by chance
Next summertime sun, she'll know well what I mean
Cos' now instead of blue,
so my eyes now gaze her green.
Wednesday, March 10, 2021
Topic(s) of this poem: translation