Satan ne te fête

We last saw poems from Mots d’Heures: Gousses, Rames eight years ago, so we’re due for more. They are so very funny.

Keep in mind that, as with all poetry, these verses are meant to be read aloud to get the full appreciation. This may be difficult if you don’t speak French. It might be a challenge even if you do. So I have included the, erm, phonetic transliteration of the poems at the bottom of this post, in invisible electrons. If you really, really need it, just highlight the space and the text will become visible. As will the reason why this is a Friday set of poetry.

The poems don’t have titles; they are helpfully numbered, like Shakespeare’s sonnets. Or the Psalms. Or items on a Chinese menu.

“10”

Lit-elle messe, moffette,1
Satan ne te fête,
Et digne somme coeurs et nouez.
À longue qu’aime est-ce pailles d’Eure.
Et ne Satan bise ailleurs
Et ne fredonne messe. Moffette, ah, ouais!2

1. Moffette. Noxious exhalations formed in underground galleries or mines.
2. This little fragment is a moral precept addressed to a young girl. She is advised to go to mass even under the most adverse conditions in order to confound Satan and keep her heart pure until the knot (marriage) is tied. She is warned against long engagements and to stay out of hayfields be they as lush and lovely as those of the Eure valley, for Satan will not be off spoiling crops elsewhere. She must not mumble at mass, or the consequences will make the noxious fumes of earth seem trivial.

“1”

Un petit d’un petit¹
S’étonne aux Halles2
Un petit d’un petit
Ah! degrés te fallent3
Indolent qui ne sort cesse4
Indolent qui ne se mène5
Qu’importe un petit d’un petit
Tout Gai de Reguennes.6

1. The inevitable result of a child marriage.

2. The subject of this epigrammatic poem is obviously from the provinces, since a native Parisian would take this famous old market for granted.

3. Since this personage bears no titles, we are led to believe that the poet writes of one of those unfortunate idiot-children that in olden days existed as a living skeleton in their family’s closet.  Am inclined to believe, however, that this is a fine piece of mis direction and that the poet is actually writing of some famous political prisoner, or the illegitimate offspring of some noble house. The Man in the Iron Maask, perhaps?

4, 5. Another misdirection. Obviously it was not laziness that prevented this person’s going out and taking himself places.

5. Another misdirection. Obviously it was not laziness that prevented this person’s going out and taking himself places.

[1] He was obviously prevented from fulfilling his destiny, since he is compared to Gai de Reguennes. This was a young squire (to one of his uncles, A Gaillard of Normandy) who died at the tender age of twelve of a surfeit of Saracen arrows before the walls of Acre in 1191.

 Highlight the area below to reveal the poems.

 

Little Miss Muffet
Sat on a tuffet,
Eating her curds and whey;
There came a big spider,
Who sat down beside her
And frightened Miss Muffet away.

 

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall.
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the king's horses and all the king's men
Couldn't put Humpty together again.

 

 

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