Joana de Arc
Joan of Arc, par Leonard Cohen
Adatada de engles par Michel Gaillard
La flamas core, e los segue Joana,
cuando el cavali nel oscur:
no luna brilia sua armur,
no person, tra esta note, acompania.
“La gera es tan fatigante!
Me vole vive como a ante
e vesti me en roba blanca
de sposi per covre bien mea manca.”
As she came riding through the dark
No moon to keep her armor bright
No man to get her through this very smoky night
She said, “I’m tired of the war
I want the kind of work I had before
A wedding dress or something white
To wear upon my swollen appetite”
“Me es felis de tua parla:
me atende tu a cada dia.
En me, alga cosa aspira gania
un eroesa tal, solitar e fria.
— E ci tu es? ela demanda
a esta algun ultra la fuma.
— Me es la foco, elo responde,
e tua orgulo savaje ia sedui me.”
You know I’ve watched you riding every day
And something in me yearns to win
Such a cold and lonesome heroine
“And who are you?” she sternly spoke
To the one beneath the smoke
“Why, I’m fire”, he replied
“And I love your solitude, I love your pride”
“Alora, foco, fresci tua corpo,
u asi la mea per asorbe”,
ela dise e, en la cor
focosa, ela salta como amor.
Profonda a en, la foco prende
Joana de Arc en sua abrasa
e, tota a supra, elo pende
la senes de sua roba blanca de sposa.
I’m gonna give you mine to hold”
Saying this she climbed inside
To be his one, to be his only bride
And deep into his fiery heart
He took the dust of Joan of Arc
And high above the wedding guests
He hung the ashes of her wedding dress
Profonda a en, la foco prende
Joana de Arc en sua abrasa.
Tan clar, alora, ela comprende:
si elo es foco, ela debe es brasa.
Ela salteta, e ela cria;
en sua oio, me vide gloria.
Me mesma aspira ama e brilia,
ma perce tal cruelia… tal abalia?
He took the dust of Joan of Arc
And then she clearly understood
If he was fire, oh then she must be wood
I saw her wince, I saw her cry
I saw the glory in her eye
Myself, I long for love and light
But must it come so cruel, and oh so bright?