“King of splendor, brightness
true and clear,
Almighty God, abet, I make my prayer,
the friend I have not seen
since night began,
now that the dawn is near.
Say, friend, are you awake?
O sleep no more,
but sweetly rise: I see the eastern star,
the herald to the daylight
growing bright,
and dawn is near.
I sing, my friend, for you:
then sleep no more;
birds seek the daylight in the trees; I fear
the cuckold will surprise
your ardent eyes,
for dawn is near.
Go to your window, friend,
see where each star
grows faint in heaven; quickly, lest you bear
a heavy loss this morning,
heed my warning,
for the dawn is near.
I have not moved, friend, since
you left me here,
nor slept, but knelt to Mary’s son in prayer,
that my companion he
restore to me,
and now the dawn is near.
You sought me, friend, to watch
upon the stair,
never to sleep all night, never to tire
till daybreak: has my friend
my song disdained
now that the dawn is near?”—
“Sweet friend, I wish the day
might dawn no more,
so rich my pleasures: holding the most fair
of women, can I care
some jealous fool is near,
or that the dawn is here?”
From: Orgel, Stephen, “Alba by Giraut De Bornelh” in Poetry, August-September 1970, pp. 356-357.
(https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/browse?volume=116&issue=5&page=89)
Date: 12th century (original in Occitan); 1970 (translation in English)
By: Giraut de Bornelh (c1138-1215)
Translated by: Stephen Orgel (1933- )