Come here, come, little gourmet

Poem by Jean-Antoine De Baïf Collection Loves of FrancinePeriod 16th century

Come here, come, little gourmet,
Come, in amorous delight,
This fine vigorous spring,
My fair little Francine,
Let us spend free of care,
“” Far from importunate pains,
“” Which willingly are not far
“” From the haughtiest fortunes.

There is nothing that does not invite
To follow gaiety,
To all merriment,
To all joyful life.
There is nothing that does not summon us
By example to love:
We must not lose a single day
That we do not consume in love.

See, the sky laughs upon the earth
Serening the air with a fine day:
See, the earth makes love
To the sky, and from itself releases
Its most beautiful treasure,
To adorn its renewal
Spreading the newness
Of its fragrant flowering.

The fruit trees whiten with flowers,
The meadows paint themselves with flowers,
And with fragrant odors
Fill all the balmy air.
Hear the babbling brooks,
That clear-flowing skip along,
Hear the singing little birds,
That sweetly chirp.

See, the birds pair off,
And with amorous nectar
Drunk (the happy ones)
Their loves they cry out in the noisy woods.
See on that tree, as they desire,
Those dainty turtle-doves
Under a shivering pleasure
Kissing each other, trembling.

See (so strong is their love)
How, wanting to mingle,
They try to swallow each other,
Trying to make themselves in that way
Of two only one.
See how with a soft murmur
They flatter each other gently
Amid such sweet swallowing.

See, Francine, see, my dainty one,
Those vines that the elm trees
Weary with vine-leaf branches.
See, my love, see, look
At the over-creeping ivy
That with its twisted chain
Embraces all around, climbing,
The beloved trunk of that oak.

What? my darling, every thing
Will feel the gifts of love,
Every thing will enjoy them,
And our love rests?
What? foolish one, before our eyes
Shall we see everything disport itself,
Without their graceful play
Flattering us with the same pleasure?

Let everything unravel in pleasure
Before our eyes, and let us,
Seeing their pleasure so sweet,
Burst with jealous envy,
Without daring to employ
The time that death leaves us,
Idle, without our using
The gifts of our youth?

Jean-Antoine de Baïf

Translation generated by Poésies 123 with assistance from the deepseek-chat artificial-intelligence model.

Text published on Poésies 123: https://www.poesies123.com/en/poem-come-here-come-little-gourmet-jean-antoine-de-baif/