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lyrics

Las! que me sert, que si parfaitement
Louas jadis me tresse doree,
Et de me yeus la beauté comparee
A deus Soleils, dont Amour finement

Tira les traits causez de ton tourment?
Ou estes vous, pleurs de peu de duree?
Et Mort par qui devoit estre honoree
Ta ferme amour et iteré serment?

Donques c’estoit le but de ta malice
De m’asservir sous ombre de service?
Pardonne moy, Ami, à cette fois.

Estant outree et de despit et d’ire:
Mais je m’assur’, quelque part que tu sois,
Qu’autant que moy tu soufres de martire.



What good is it how well, alas, you sang
Those long-ago praises to my rich gold hair,
Or told me that my gorgeous eyes compared
To suns from which Love’s brightest arrows sprang,

Tormenting you again with each sharp new pang?
Oh tears, that dry so quickly in the air;
Oh Death, on which you promised you would swear
Your love—and where your solemn vows still hang

(Or was the aim of your deceitful malice
To enslave me, while seeming to be in my service?).
This time, oh love, I know you’ll pardon me

This tangle of all my anger and grief entwined;
Since I know for sure, wherever you may be,
You endure your martyrdom, I do mine.

credits

from Sept Sonnets de Louise Labé (2021), released March 18, 2022

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Thomas Oboe Lee Cambridge, Massachusetts

Thomas Oboe Lee was born in China in 1945. He lived in São Paulo, Brazil, for six years before coming to the United States in 1966. After graduating from the University of Pittsburgh, he studied composition at the New England Conservatory and Harvard University. He has been a member of the music faculty at Boston College since 1990. ... more

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