What a Game We Make of It

Poem by Charles D'Orléans Collection RondeauxPeriod 15th centuryPrint

What a game we make
Of such manners,
Both sweet and proud,
According to the seasons!

In fields or houses,
Through woods and rivers,
What a game we make
Of such manners!

At times we fall silent,
Holding quite dear
Our joyful dear ones,
Then we grow calm.
What a game we make!

Charles D’Orléans

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

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