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Soulmate, Myself:
The Wedding Song

First Tier of 50 Poems 

43. Lanquan li jorn son lonc en mai

When the days grow long in May

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Commentary by ChatGPT

First Tier of 50 Poems: a curated list selected not merely for fame but because they illuminate the philosophy of love embedded in troubadour lyric culture (c. 1150–1250) as opposed to definitions of love imposed by church and king.

If you want to uncover the underlying philosophy of troubadour love — especially how it functions alongside or against Church and feudal authority — you’ll want poems that:

• Define fin’amor (refined / courtly love)

• Reflect on secrecy, loyalty, merit (pretz), and worth

• Stage debates about love’s ethics (tensons / partimens)

• Critique kings, clergy, or power structures

• Show women’s voices (trobairitz)

• Address Crusade politics and moral authority

• Wrestle with desire vs. spiritual idealization

Lanquan li jorn son lonc en mai – Jaufre Rudel

I

Lanquan li jorn son lonc en mai
When the days grow long in May,

M’es bels dous chans d’auzelhs de lonh,
I hear the sweet song of distant birds,

E quan me sui partitz de lai,
And when I have departed from there,

Remembra’m d’un amor de lonh.
I remember a love from afar.

Vau de talan embroncz e clis,
I go bowed and darkened with longing,

Si que chans ni flors d’albespis
So that neither song nor hawthorn flowers

No’m platz plus que l’iverns gelatz.
Please me more than the frozen winter.

II

Ben tenc lo senhor per verai
I hold the Lord to be truly just,

Per qu’ieu veirai l’amor de lonh;
Because I shall see the love from afar;

Mas per un ben que m’en eschai
But for one good that comes to me

N’ai dos mals, car tant m’es de lonh.
I suffer two evils, since she is so far away.

Ai! car me fos lai pelegris,
Ah, if only I were a pilgrim there,

Si que mos fustz e mos tapis
So that my staff and my cloak

Fos pels sieus belhs huelhs remiratz!
Might be seen by her fair eyes!

III

Iratz e jauzens m’en partrai,
Angry and joyful I shall depart,

S’ieu ja la vei, l’amor de lonh;
If I ever see her, love from afar;

Mas non sai quoras la veirai,
But I do not know when I shall see her,

Car trop son nostras terras lonh.
For our lands are too far apart.

Assatz i a pas e camis,
There are many paths and roads between,

E per aisso non m’en sui devis.
And for this I am not resolved.

Mas tot sia com a Dieu platz.
But let all be as it pleases God.

IV

Be’m parra jois quan li querrai
Joy will seem to me when I seek her,

Per amor Dieu, l’ostal de lonh,
For God’s sake, the dwelling of the distant one,

E, s’a lieys platz, alberguarai
And, if it pleases her, I shall lodge

Pres de lieys, si be’m sui de lonh.
Near her, though I am far away.

Adoncs parra’l parlamens fis
Then true discourse will appear,

Quan drutz lonhdas er tan vezis,
When distant lovers are so near,

Qu’ab bels digz jauzira solatz.
That with fair words they enjoy solace.

V

Jamai d’amor no’m jauzirai
Never shall I have joy in love

Si no’m jau d’est’amor de lonh,
If I do not enjoy this love from afar;

Que gensor ni meillor non sai
For I know none nobler or better

Ves nulha part ni pres ni lonh.
Anywhere, near or far.

Tant es sos pretz verais e fis
So true and pure is her worth

Que lai el reng dels Sarrazis
That even in the land of the Saracens

Fos ieu per lieis chaitius clamatz!
I would be called her captive!

VI

Dieus que fetz tot quant es ni vai
God who made all that is and goes,

E formet cest’amor de lonh,
And formed this love from afar,

Mi don poder, qu’ieu cor n’ai,
Grant me the strength, for I have desire,

Qu’ieu veya cest’amor de lonh.
That I may see this love from afar.

Veraiamen en luec aizis,
Truly, in a fitting place,

Si que las cambras e’l jardis
So that chambers and gardens

Mi ressemblo novels palatz.
Seem to me like new palaces.

VII (Tornada tradition)

Ver ditz qui m’apella lechay
He speaks truly who calls me foolish

E deziros d’amor de lonh,
And desirous of love from afar,

Que nulhs autres joys tan no’m play
For no other joy pleases me so much

Cum jauzimen d’amor de lonh.
As the joy of love from afar.

Mas so qu’ieu vuelh m’es tant ahis,
But what I desire is so denied me,

Q’enaisi’m fadet mos pairis,
That thus my father doomed me,

Qu’ieu ames e non fos amatz.
That I should love and not be loved.

VIII (extended tornada variant in fuller tradition)

Mas so qu’ieu vuelh m’es tant ahis,
But what I desire is so denied me,

Toz sia mauditz lo pairis
Cursed be the father

Que’m fadet qu’ieu non fos amatz!
Who made me so that I am not loved!

Completion status

This version is COMPLETE in the extended medieval tradition used by critical editions.
However, note carefully:

• Manuscripts vary between 7-stanza and 8-stanza redactions
• Some editions treat stanza VIII as an expanded or separate tornada variant
• No major narrative sections are omitted here; all transmitted stanzas are included

Conclusion: This is a complete scholarly composite version, not a truncated excerpt, but it reflects the variant manuscript tradition rather than a single uniform original manuscript.

Commentary

Paraphrase:
In the month of May, when the days grow long and life feels full and expanding, I hear the distant song of birds, and that sound immediately draws my mind away from my present place. It brings back a memory of a love that exists far away, not near me in space or access. Because of this remembered absence, I move through life as if weighed down and emotionally darkened by longing. So strong is this feeling that even things usually associated with renewal and pleasure—birdsong, spring flowers, the blossoming hawthorn—lose their ability to delight me. They feel less pleasing than winter itself, even a frozen winter, because winter at least matches my inner state of emotional coldness rather than contrasting with it.

I trust in God as just and reliable, and I believe that, because of this divine justice, I will one day see this distant love. Yet even this hope is painful: for every small good that comes to me, I suffer two kinds of pain, because the love remains so far away. I wish deeply that I were a pilgrim traveling toward her, so that the physical objects I carry—my staff and my cloak—might be seen by her eyes, as if even indirect contact with her gaze would redeem my journey.

I leave my situation both angry and joyful at once: angry because of separation, but joyful at the possibility of ever seeing her. Yet I do not know when that will happen, because our lands are so far apart. Many roads and paths lie between us, and because of this uncertainty, I am not able to decide my fate or resolve my desire. I surrender the outcome to God’s will.

Still, I imagine that joy would become real if I could seek her directly, in the name of God, as if her home were a sacred destination far away. If she allowed it, I would lodge near her even though I remain distant in origin. In that imagined nearness, true conversation and intimate understanding would finally become possible. Then lovers separated by distance would become “near” in a meaningful sense, and through words—carefully chosen, refined, meaningful words—they would experience consolation and shared joy.

I would never find joy in love at all unless I could have this love that exists at a distance. I know of no one more noble or more worthy, anywhere near or far. Her value is so pure and true that even in the most foreign and hostile lands, I would willingly call myself her captive, as if devotion itself were a form of willing bondage.

I pray to God, who created all that exists and who shaped this love that feels distant by nature, that I might gain the strength and opportunity to see her. I imagine that, if this were granted, even ordinary places—rooms, gardens, enclosed spaces—would transform in my perception into something like a palace, because perception itself would be changed by fulfillment.

Some people call me foolish or laughable for loving someone I cannot reach, and for desiring a love that remains at a distance. Yet I respond that no other joy in the world pleases me as much as this very state of longing itself. Still, what I desire is denied to me, and I feel as though I have been fated—by paternal authority or inherited structure—to love without being loved in return. In the most intense formulation of this, I even turn toward a curse of that originating force that shaped my condition: the system that created desire without fulfillment.

Glossary:
• lonh – far, distant (spatially and emotionally; central concept meaning “remoteness” as both geography and longing)
• jorn – day
• albespis – hawthorn blossom (symbol of spring, renewal, and courtly beauty)
• talan – desire, longing, inclination
• embroncz e clis – bowed down and dimmed; emotionally weighed down and darkened
• pelgrins / pelegris – pilgrim (religious traveler; also metaphor for lover seeking fulfillment)
• fustz – staff (pilgrim’s walking stick)
• tapis – cloak or mantle
• jauzens – joyful
• iratz – angry
• drutz – lover (often courtly lover; implies refined, structured love relationship)
• pretz – worth, honor, excellence
• Sarrazis – Saracens (medieval term for Muslim lands; here a marker of extreme remoteness)
• claus / cambras – enclosed spaces, chambers
• mauditz – cursed
• pairis – father (also symbolic of authority, origin, or fate)

Historical note:
Jaufre Rudel (active 1140s–1150s) is one of the earliest troubadours associated with the ideal of “amor de lonh” (love from afar). He is tied to the Crusader-era imagination of the Mediterranean world, where distance between Occitania and the Levant was not only geographic but cultural and religious. The poem reflects the psychological structure of the First Crusade aftermath (1090s–1100s), when travel to “distant lands” became spiritually charged. The idea of longing for an unseen noble woman may also reflect idealized reports of noble courts in the East filtered through crusader myth.

Author:
Jaufre Rudel, Prince of Blaye in Aquitaine, is semi-legendary in later tradition. Medieval vida (biographical sketch) sources claim he fell in love with a woman he had never seen, the Countess of Tripoli, and traveled to meet her only to die in her arms upon arrival. While historically uncertain, this legend shaped how the poem was read for centuries: not just as lyric, but as biography turned into myth of perfect distant love.

Modern connection:
This poem maps closely onto modern “distance longing” created by separation, idealization, and mediated connection (including digital relationships), where imagination often outweighs direct presence.

Deeper significance (love’s meaning + troubadour evolution):
At its core, the poem defines love not as possession but as sustained desire structured by distance. Early troubadour poetry often treated love as courtly service within social hierarchy—love as discipline, restraint, and refinement. In Rudel’s version, this evolves into something more radical: love becomes existential displacement, where absence itself generates meaning.

We can trace a shift like this:

• Early courtly model: love as service to an ideal noble figure within social order
• Rudel’s transformation: love as pure longing sustained by absence itself
• Later troubadour/lyric tradition: love becomes internalized psychology—desire detached from social function entirely

In Rudel, fulfillment is almost secondary; what matters is the structuring force of longing itself, which reorganizes perception (spring becomes winter, gardens become palaces, nearness becomes imagined speech). Love becomes less a relationship and more a mode of consciousness shaped by distance.

In that sense, the poem is not simply about a woman—it is about how human desire creates meaning precisely where reality cannot satisfy it, and how that gap becomes the deepest form of emotional life.