22.12.25: Level 3; the Middle Ages; Tempus transit gelidum [2]

A real challenge – but a rewarding one – is translating a song. Not only do you need to keep as close as possible to the original meaning, but also convey the rhymes, and the rhythms of stressed and unstressed syllables. Moreover, the “voice” of a Mediaeval writer should be respected. I have moved from the first post [step #1 translation] which gave a literal rendering, and notes to accompany the Latin original, to [step #2 translation] my own singable version. I’ve thrown in a few archaisms e.g. ‘a-going’, ’meetly’ (swiftly), ‘thou art (surrounded)’ together with a common habit in English poetry of losing syllables e.g. ‘am’rous’, ‘flow’ry’ and ‘pow’r’.

[V1]

tém-pŭs trán-sĭt gé-lĭ-dúm │Ícy̆ cóld’s ă-góĭng bý,
mún-dŭs ré-nŏ-vá-tŭr │ Ánd thĕ wórld’s rĕnéwed nŏw;
vérquĕ rédĭt flórĭdúm, │ Flów’ry̆ spríng ĭs grówĭng nígh,
fórmă rébŭs dátŭr. │ Év’ry̆thíng’s ĭn víew nŏw.

ávĭs módŭlátŭr, │ Bírdsŏng ís ă-sóundĭng,
módŭláns lĕtátŭr │ Jóyfŭllý rĕsóundĭng;

ávĭs módŭlátŭr, │ Bírdsŏng ís ă-sóundĭng,
módŭláns lĕtátŭr │ Jóyfŭllý rĕsóundĭng;

lŭcídĭór│ Ănd cléarĕr gróws,
ĕt lénĭór │ Ănd sóftĕr blóws,
ăér iăm sérĕnátŭr; │ Ă sóothĭng áir sŭrróundĭng.

iăm flórĕá, │ Nŏw blóssŏms spróut,
iăm fróndĕá, │ Ănd léaves sprĕad óut;
sĭlvá cŏmís dĕnsátŭr. │ Ĭn gréen thĕ wóod’s ăbóundĭng.

[V2]

Ludunt super gramina │ Gracefully upon the grass,
virgines decore, │ Maids are playing neatly;
quarum nova carmina │ From their lips, new songs shall pass,
dulci sonant ore. │ Sounding oh so sweetly.

annuunt favore │ Birds, they nod assent, and
volucres canore, │ Song is kindly sent, and
favet et odore │ Floral-tinted Earth brings
tellus picta flore. │ Fragrant favoured greetings.

cor igitur │ Thus thou, the heart,
et cingitur │ Surrounded art,
et tangitur amore, │ And touched by love discreetly.

Virginibus │With maidens fair,
et avibus │ Birds in the air,
strepentibus sonore. │Together singing meetly.

[V3]

Tendit modo retia │ Now his nets he starts to spread;
Puer pharetratus; │ Boy, a quiver wearing,
Cui deorum curia │ Godly court lies overhead,
Prebet famulatus; │ Servitude declaring.

Cuius dominatus │ And his realm, a-snaring,
Nimium est latus; │ Is too much for bearing;
Per hunc triumphatus │ By the boy defeated,
Sum et sauciatus; │ And with wounds I’m greeted.

Pugnaveram, │ For I had fought,
Et fueram │ At first I’d thought
In primis reluctatus; │ There might be naught between us;

Sed iterum │ Yet now, once more,
Per puerum │ I’m thrown before,
Sum Veneri prostratus. │ The am’rous pow’r of Venus.