Guillaume de Machaut: Tels rit au main qui au soir pleure (Le Remède de Fortune), Sibil•la Ensemble
Channel: Sibil•la Ensemble
Date: 2021-10-19

OUT NOW: Our debut audiovisual album 𝑉𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑠!
Listen to medieval music from the 12th and 13th centuries, and watch the music film we created with the immersive audiophile label TRPTK and the cinematographer Jonas Sacks. 
𝑉𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑠 celebrates the power of nature and combines medieval chants and secular songs from Germany, Spain, France and Cyprus.

 Be sure to get 𝑉𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑠 as: 
 🎥 Video Download in 4K UHD Blu-ray quality:  
https://trptk.com/shop/video-downloads/viriditas-video-download/
 💿 Hybrid SACD:  
https://trptk.com/shop/cds-sacds/viriditas-sacd/
 🖥️ Hi-res Download up to DXD 32bit:  
https://trptk.com/shop/downloads/viriditas/
 🔊 Spatial Audio in Dolby Atmos, DTS:X and Auro-3D:  
https://trptk.com/shop/spatial-audio-downloads/viriditas-spatial/

Visit our ensemble's website for more! 
https://sibillaensemble.com

______________


Guillaume de Machaut (1300 - 1377)
Complainte: Tels rit au main qui soir pleure 
from 'Le Rèmede de Fortune'

Sibil•la Ensemble 
audio and video production, voice and gothic harp by Kristia Michael


Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/sibil.laensemble
YouTube channel:
https://youtube.com/channel/UCj7kRtp7qHBULWjxaZWmrGQ

______________


\Translation\

He laughs in the morning who weeps at night,
And a man trusts that Love labors
To his benefit though she launches an assault
And does him an evil turn,
And he thinks Joy hastens his way
To help when in fact she never budges.
Now Fortune is the source of all this harm
As she turns her wheel,
Not waiting for day to dawn
To start it in motion; rather she never rests,
But turns, turns again, and turns it all around
Until she brings to the very top
The man lying defeated in the gutter;
The one on top she conveys to the bottom,
Distressing and discouraging in a flash
Those who are most happy.

[...]

Desire does this, scorching and scarring
My heart with a flame so horrific
No man or woman in the world
Can provide
The cure except my lady herself,
Who burns and sets it ablaze, who sears
And singes it with the love’s flame;
Nor will she make an end.
Fortune is the cruel neighbor of the heart,
Which Love assaults and assails,
And so I expect death will soon seize
Me with no further wrong committed.
But if my life ends thus,
To my lady, whom I love with a pure affection,
I’ll render up my soul,
My hands joined, my head bowed.