Voyages from I to Thou.

Location: Skellig Michel, Ireland

Tuesday, November 30, 2004

Naughty Churchly Song

Comrades, I'll make a song -- refined, no less.
The only sense it owns is foolishness.
Love, Joy and Youth are all mixed in, I must confess.
Who fails to understand it, a peasant is he:
who in his heart won't learn it deep. We see,
if a man finds the things he wants, he holds it steadfastly ...
Listen, and my dislikes I'll here unlatch:
a guarded cunt; a pond -- no fish to catch;
the brags of worthless men, with which no deeds they match.
Lord God, King, Ruler of the Universe,
why not on the first cunt-guard set your curse?
No servant or protector ever served a lady worse.
Well, here's the law of cunt and how it goes.
I speak who suffer through it many woes.
Other things, taken from, grow less. Not so with cunt. It grows.

-- Ribald song of Gilhem of Poitou, transl. Jack Lindsay. He notes:
"We can feel how Guilhem would have enjoyed using a conductus form,
with a vernacular text, with such a cry to God. No doubt he used church-music
for his tune."


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