Poem
Hadewijch
Song 16
When the new season makes its way,the mountains and the valleys sleep
and everything is dark and grey.
And yet the hazel comes alive.
The lover may misfortune reap,
but he’ll outgrow it and revive.
What good are the season and its joys
for him who seeks love bright and fair,
when all the world his trust destroys;
no one supports him, no one true
to share his love with and declare:
‘My soul fulfilment finds in you.’
How can joy fill up his soul
when love has chained him, locked him in,
while freedom was his spur, his goal:
he wished to know love’s breadth and scope.
As stars may into darkness spin,
so love brings pain and loss of hope.
The pain is endless and untold.
The heaviest burdens can’t be weighed:
nothing compares, they break the mould.
Therefore it’s best to be resigned.
Although my share is small, I’ve paid
a price – and life is too unkind.
Life’s cruelty leaves him in dismay
whose heart devoted is, and warm;
he finds he has been led astray
and can’t see his way back again.
Despair has crushed him like a storm.
What pain outdoes that pain?
You fearless ones, whose trust endures
and who live freely in love’s care,
take pity on the one love lures
into a dark and lonely hell.
Those who have answers well may fare,
but my heart in despair does dwell.
I saw a radiant cloud arise
out of a dense and darkened sky.
Its beauty took me by surprise.
I lingered in the sun, at play.
But all this proved a dream, a lie.
Who’d blame me if I’d died that day?
I felt the night make its descent.
I wished I’d never been born!
But he who yields to love’s ferment
gains love’s rewards and is made whole.
Although once more I’m bruised and torn,
God strengthens every noble soul.
At first love is enough, and more.
When love first spoke and spurred me on,
I smiled on all it had in store.
Just like the hazel, love will bloom
in the dark season early on,
while its fruits much later loom.
He will prosper who can wait
for love to satisfy his heart.
Ah, God, I want to celebrate,
since it is not the wait I fear.
I gave my all right from the start,
and yet the pain grew, year by year.
The lover suffers so dearly:
chasing love – an endless quest –
in darkness or where light shines clearly,
in love or rage. If love could give
a solace true and manifest,
dejected souls would heal, and live.
If love spent all its love on me,
still its deep well would not run dry.
That’s cause for living joyfully.
If love were spent, an empty seed,
ah, God, make the noble see why
we would be lost and poor indeed.
Yet all these matters I address
are known too well and won’t astound
the noble whom God gives love’s stress
so they can taste its sweetness too.
Before a harmony is found
there’s bitter sorrow to get through.
Love strengthens and it brings rough weather,
as the adventure will show.
Ah, how it all comes together,
the stranger cannot know.
© Translation: 2008, Judith Wilkinson
Lied 16
Lied 16
Wanneer het seizoen zich vernieuwt,zijn berg en dal nog
erg donker en grauw overal.
Toch begint de hazelaar te bloeien.
Al heeft de minnaar tegenspoed,
hij zal door alles heen groeien.
Wat baten blijdschap of seizoen hém,
die graag vreugde zou ervaren in minne,
maar niets vindt in de wijde wereld,
waarop hij in vertrouwen kan steunen
en waartegen hij vrij kan zeggen: ‘Lief, jij bent het
die mijn zielsgrond kan bevredigen.’
Hoe kan blijdschap hém omvatten,
die minne in boeien vastgeklonken heeft,
terwijl hij de weidsheid van de minne wilde doorreizen
en haar vrij, in vertrouwen, wilde genieten?
Meer dan sterren aan de hemel staan,
lijdt de minne dan smarten.
Het getal van die smarten is onzegbaar.
De grote, zware lasten blijven ongewogen.
Niets is daarmee vergelijkbaar.
Daarom geeft men het maar beter op.
Al is mijn deel klein, ik heb er genoeg van verdragen.
Het gruwt me dat ik leef.
Hoe kan het leven hém gruwen en bedroeven,
die zich heel en al heeft gegeven,
maar die ver in donkere dwaalwegen wordt gedreven,
vanwaar hij nooit meer denkt terug te keren,
en die in een storm van wanhoop wordt verpulverd.
Welke smart lijkt op die pijn?
Ach, jullie stoutmoedigen, die alles met minne doorstaan,
en vrij leven in vertrouwen op haar,
heb medelijden met de verdoemde, die minne neerslaat
en met wanhoop en verlatenheid bestookt.
Ach, wie er raad mee weet, leve vrij met die raad.
Mijn hart leeft in wanhoop.
Want ik zag een heldere wolk oprijzen
boven het wolkendek, zo mooi.
Ik meende weldra in volle weelde
vrij in de zon te spelen.
Toen werd mijn vreugde slechts een waanbeeld.
Al stierf ik, wie zou me dat kwalijk nemen?
Toen daalde voor mij de nacht neer over de dag.
O wee, dat ik ooit werd geboren!
Maar wie zich helemaal aan de macht van minne overgeeft,
zal minne nog wel met minne belonen.
Al verduur ik weer slagen,
God geeft alle edele zielen kracht.
In het begin voldoet de minne altijd.
Toen minne mij eerst over minne sprak,
ach, hoe ik met al wat ik ben al wat zij is toelachte!
Toen deed ze me lijken op de hazelaars,
die vroeg in het donkere seizoen bloeien,
terwijl men lang op hun vruchten moet wachten.
Hém gaat het goed, die wachten kan,
totdat minne hem helemaal bevredigt.
Ach God, daar ben ik niet bang voor,
integendeel, ik ben er des te blijer om.
Ik gaf mezelf toch helemaal aan de minne over!
Maar het lijden deed me steeds meer pijn.
Dat valt de minnaar heel erg zwaar:
minne achterna te dolen en niet te weten waar,
in duisternis of in klaarte,
in toorn of in minne. Gaf minne
onomwonden haar waarachtige troost,
dat zou de ellendige zielen bevredigen.
Al liet mijn lief mij liefs van minne ontvangen,
daarmee zou minne niet helemaal opgebruikt zijn,
en dan zou die blijdschap maar een waanbeeld zijn.
Het zou zeer jammer zijn als dat gebeurde.
Ach, God doe de edelmoedigen begrijpen
wat voor een verlies dat zou betekenen.
Ach, wat ik nu en altijd heb willen zeggen,
heeft God de edelen wel duidelijk gemaakt,
aan wie hij minnepijn heeft verleend
om het wezen van de minne te kunnen genieten.
Vooraleer alles met alles wordt verenigd,
proeft men bitter leed.
De komst van de minne geeft moed, haar uitblijven slaat terneer.
Dat bevestigt het avontuur.
Ach, hoe men alles met alles omvat,
dat weten vreemde buren niet.
© 2008, Veerle Fraeters & Frank Willaert
From: Liederen
Publisher: Historische Uitgeverij, Groningen
From: Liederen
Publisher: Historische Uitgeverij, Groningen
Poems
Poems of Hadewijch
Close
Song 16
When the new season makes its way,the mountains and the valleys sleep
and everything is dark and grey.
And yet the hazel comes alive.
The lover may misfortune reap,
but he’ll outgrow it and revive.
What good are the season and its joys
for him who seeks love bright and fair,
when all the world his trust destroys;
no one supports him, no one true
to share his love with and declare:
‘My soul fulfilment finds in you.’
How can joy fill up his soul
when love has chained him, locked him in,
while freedom was his spur, his goal:
he wished to know love’s breadth and scope.
As stars may into darkness spin,
so love brings pain and loss of hope.
The pain is endless and untold.
The heaviest burdens can’t be weighed:
nothing compares, they break the mould.
Therefore it’s best to be resigned.
Although my share is small, I’ve paid
a price – and life is too unkind.
Life’s cruelty leaves him in dismay
whose heart devoted is, and warm;
he finds he has been led astray
and can’t see his way back again.
Despair has crushed him like a storm.
What pain outdoes that pain?
You fearless ones, whose trust endures
and who live freely in love’s care,
take pity on the one love lures
into a dark and lonely hell.
Those who have answers well may fare,
but my heart in despair does dwell.
I saw a radiant cloud arise
out of a dense and darkened sky.
Its beauty took me by surprise.
I lingered in the sun, at play.
But all this proved a dream, a lie.
Who’d blame me if I’d died that day?
I felt the night make its descent.
I wished I’d never been born!
But he who yields to love’s ferment
gains love’s rewards and is made whole.
Although once more I’m bruised and torn,
God strengthens every noble soul.
At first love is enough, and more.
When love first spoke and spurred me on,
I smiled on all it had in store.
Just like the hazel, love will bloom
in the dark season early on,
while its fruits much later loom.
He will prosper who can wait
for love to satisfy his heart.
Ah, God, I want to celebrate,
since it is not the wait I fear.
I gave my all right from the start,
and yet the pain grew, year by year.
The lover suffers so dearly:
chasing love – an endless quest –
in darkness or where light shines clearly,
in love or rage. If love could give
a solace true and manifest,
dejected souls would heal, and live.
If love spent all its love on me,
still its deep well would not run dry.
That’s cause for living joyfully.
If love were spent, an empty seed,
ah, God, make the noble see why
we would be lost and poor indeed.
Yet all these matters I address
are known too well and won’t astound
the noble whom God gives love’s stress
so they can taste its sweetness too.
Before a harmony is found
there’s bitter sorrow to get through.
Love strengthens and it brings rough weather,
as the adventure will show.
Ah, how it all comes together,
the stranger cannot know.
© 2008, Judith Wilkinson
From: Liederen
From: Liederen
Song 16
When the new season makes its way,the mountains and the valleys sleep
and everything is dark and grey.
And yet the hazel comes alive.
The lover may misfortune reap,
but he’ll outgrow it and revive.
What good are the season and its joys
for him who seeks love bright and fair,
when all the world his trust destroys;
no one supports him, no one true
to share his love with and declare:
‘My soul fulfilment finds in you.’
How can joy fill up his soul
when love has chained him, locked him in,
while freedom was his spur, his goal:
he wished to know love’s breadth and scope.
As stars may into darkness spin,
so love brings pain and loss of hope.
The pain is endless and untold.
The heaviest burdens can’t be weighed:
nothing compares, they break the mould.
Therefore it’s best to be resigned.
Although my share is small, I’ve paid
a price – and life is too unkind.
Life’s cruelty leaves him in dismay
whose heart devoted is, and warm;
he finds he has been led astray
and can’t see his way back again.
Despair has crushed him like a storm.
What pain outdoes that pain?
You fearless ones, whose trust endures
and who live freely in love’s care,
take pity on the one love lures
into a dark and lonely hell.
Those who have answers well may fare,
but my heart in despair does dwell.
I saw a radiant cloud arise
out of a dense and darkened sky.
Its beauty took me by surprise.
I lingered in the sun, at play.
But all this proved a dream, a lie.
Who’d blame me if I’d died that day?
I felt the night make its descent.
I wished I’d never been born!
But he who yields to love’s ferment
gains love’s rewards and is made whole.
Although once more I’m bruised and torn,
God strengthens every noble soul.
At first love is enough, and more.
When love first spoke and spurred me on,
I smiled on all it had in store.
Just like the hazel, love will bloom
in the dark season early on,
while its fruits much later loom.
He will prosper who can wait
for love to satisfy his heart.
Ah, God, I want to celebrate,
since it is not the wait I fear.
I gave my all right from the start,
and yet the pain grew, year by year.
The lover suffers so dearly:
chasing love – an endless quest –
in darkness or where light shines clearly,
in love or rage. If love could give
a solace true and manifest,
dejected souls would heal, and live.
If love spent all its love on me,
still its deep well would not run dry.
That’s cause for living joyfully.
If love were spent, an empty seed,
ah, God, make the noble see why
we would be lost and poor indeed.
Yet all these matters I address
are known too well and won’t astound
the noble whom God gives love’s stress
so they can taste its sweetness too.
Before a harmony is found
there’s bitter sorrow to get through.
Love strengthens and it brings rough weather,
as the adventure will show.
Ah, how it all comes together,
the stranger cannot know.
© 2008, Judith Wilkinson
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