Poetry Tuesday: Cossante

From some part of the Iberian peninsula in the thirteenth century, Pero Meogo cuts a mysterious figure.

Tell me, daughter, my pretty daughter,
Why you waited by the cold water.
It was love, alas!

Tell me, daughter, my pretty daughter,
Why you waited by the cold water.
It was love, alas!

I waited, mother, by the cold fountain
While the deer came down the mountain.
It was love, alas!

I waited by the cold river, mother,
To see the deer, and not for any other.
It was love, alas!

You lie, daughter, you lie for your lover,
I never saw deer come down from cover.
It was love, alas!

You lie, daughter, for your lover by the fountain,
I never saw deer going up to the mountain.
It was love, alas!

;o)

Poetry Tuesday: Dear Gentle Soul

By Luis Vaz de Camoes of Portugal, 1524-1580.

Dear gentle soul, who went so soon away
Departing from this life in discontent,
Repose in that far sky to which you went
While on this earth I linger in dismay.
In the ethereal seat where you must be,
If you consent to memories of our sphere,
Recall the love which, burning pure and clear,
So often in my eyes you used to see!
If then, in the incurable, long anguish,
You see some merit–do this favor for me:
And to the god who cut your life short, pray
That he as early to your sight restore me
As from my own he swept you far away.

;o)