Well, I Have Said It, I Confess It

Poem by Jean-Antoine De Baïf Period 16th century

Well, I have said it, I confess it,
That no one could love you
As much as I love you, Mistress,
Knowing better than another how to esteem you:
For the more I know
Both your beauties and your virtues,
The more, my Francine, I must
Place greater love in you.

Another less worthy, perhaps,
At first glance will be dazzled,
And unable to know you,
Will suffer a foolish love for it,
For a ray of your beauty
Losing the clarity of reason,
And through too vain a passion
Will offer you his affection.

But say: what pleasing service
From such a fool will you be able to draw,
Who crying out that you are pitiless
Will do nothing but sigh,
Than weary you with his troubles
That he will take days and nights,
For your love, as he will cry,
But through folly he will languish.

Not thus, not thus, Francine,
I do not love you thus foolishly,
From a ray of your divine worth
Suffering a foolish blindness.
What makes me love you thus
Is that I know well how to esteem you,
Is that wisely I know well
Your graces that make me yours:

Which would die, alas, if from my graces
They did not have the beautiful flowers,
Which daintily you embrace
To adorn your divine values
With their flowering chaplet
By age not fading,
Which I will give them well taught,
Since you do not hold it in contempt.

And what gives me courage,
Is that you cherish my songs,
Loving them with wise judgment,
Although I arrange their manners,
Not being struck by love in the heart,
In honor of a name that I have feigned.
How much then will you cherish them
When I sing your virtue?

You hear them, you caress them,
And since you love them so much
With their dainty gentleness
Your desire I will make content.
Francine, if you take kindly
My song all consecrated to you,
If I see you pleasing yourself with the sounds
Of my amorous songs,

I will make it so that no ancient woman
Will rise above you:
I will make it so that your glory,
For having bound my faith to you,
Very little envy will bear
To the most splendid that one will read
Of our time to have had the happiness
To win a Poet’s heart.

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-well-i-have-said-it-i-confess-it-jean-antoine-de-baif/