Courting in Winter
Woe to him (vain hope)
who goes courting at any time but summer (the attempt is crazy),
after the one night I had
4 for a fair girl, amorous was my intent,
in black bleak winter after Christmas,
I confess anger,
in time of snow, cold is the sign,
8 and ice and abundant icicles.
In a good temper, eager for [her] decision,
I came drunk from the tavern
to try, I was greatly excited,
12 to see my bright sweetheart.
And when I arrived, I knew I had favour,
danger for me, by the wall,
the bright frozen dripping icicle
16 was thick under the edge of the cold roof.
It drips right into my mouth,
cold course, whistles coated in ice;
the Jealous One's Paris candles,
20 like shoots of bushes, nasty things;
shining rake with icy tips,
strong blades of a harrow made of ice;
cold tears, ice daggers,
24 made entirely of hard ice which sticks in the mind.
The back of my neck felt the stab
of the grey needles, harsh wave.
I made a sign by repeated tapping
28 on the window with my hand.
Unfortunately the husband, who was barely asleep,
heard me sooner than the girl.
He poked the slender bright lass
32 with his cold elbow.
He thought that a thin lad in league with others
was trying to steal his money.
The withered old fool
36 got up from his bed, with a waft of stench,
the noisy peevish lout,
and the churl shouted after me.
He set upon me, dreadful deed,
40 all the inhabitants of the township full of hatred.
He hissed, I hear a hundred voices,
'Here are his tracks, he's a swift one'.
He put the pure Virgin Mary's candle
44 On the edge of the tracks of my feet.
Then I fled with a mighty effort
along the dark icy ridge.
I made my way towards the pleasantest birch grove
48 where I used to shelter in summer.
I thought, praise of a blessing,
that the house of leaves with its fine roof would be there,
and the little birds who loved me so
52 and the girl I saw in May.
There was no such place there
in the woodland grove (what disappointment!)
nor any sign of love nor refuge
56 nor the girl I saw nor the leaves.
The great bare winter had blown
All the leaves down like a green weft.
For this reason May is called for
60 and thawing weather which wouldn't make me cold.
I am a man imprisoned by winter
who sends long greetings to summer.