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Ash Wednesday Valentines
by Charles d’Orléans (1394-1465),
translated by Margaret Coats
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I.
Who’s there? Who comes so early, who?
“It’s I myself.” Saint Valentine, you!
Why turn up now at Carnival
To keep Lent’s boozy vesperal?
What booty at this rendezvous?
At present, let’s not have your sweets,
Only good wine and tempting meats,
Cheering, savory gratification,
For Lent is coming, who maltreats
Poor Carnage, forcing self-defeats
And salutary mortification.
Bad meddling is this late debut,
With puzzling prayers in Latin, too,
Required Confession annual,
Penance, and bland fare vegetal;
Let’s shut the door on such a view!
Who’s there? Who comes so early, who?
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vesperal: evening observances
Carnival: “farewell to meat” days preceding Lent
Carnage: meat eating personified
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II.
Saint Valentine, when you arrive
The very moment Lent commences,
You’ll not meet happy consequences:
Due welcome who can then contrive?
The cares of penance hardly thrive
On amatory influences,
Saint Valentine, when you arrive
The very moment Lent commences.
In future years, good sir, connive
Beforehand to arrange love’s census;
High glee will fill your audiences
As you with mates their mirth revive,
Saint Valentine, when you arrive.
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III.
Saint Valentine says, “Here I come,
And I am bringing mates to choose.
Present yourselves, and make up twos—
It’s ancient custom gambolsome.
“And when Ash Wednesday shouts, ‘Be glum!’
Politely beg, ‘Our joys excuse:
Saint Valentine says, here I come,
And I am bringing mates to choose.’
“Or in the morn, devout and dumb,
Almsgiving, prayer, and fasting use;
When dinner’s done, your loves amuse:
Choose one you like—sing, dance, and strum.”
Saint Valentine says, “Here I come.”
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Translator’s Note: Ash Wednesday 2024 is February 14. The day begins the penitential season of Lent, as set by the lunar calendar of the Church’s Easter cycle. Possible dates range from February 4 to March 10. Tradition observed into the 1960s required fasting (that is, only one meal a day) on all Lenten weekdays for healthy persons age 14 and above. The eating of meat was forbidden during the entire season, including Sundays. Annual Confession has been Church law since 1215, and is customarily done during Lent. Because Ash Wednesday has no proper Vespers (liturgical evening prayer) to anticipate it, the day and the Lenten season begin at midnight. Saint Valentine’s Day on February 14 every year is a day to celebrate love and the approach of spring. It was thought to be the day on which birds chose their mates.
The form of the first poem above is that of a virelai; the other two are rondels.
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French originals
I.
Qu’esse la? Qui vient si matin?
—Se suis je.—Vous, Saint Valentin!
Qui vous amaine maintenant,
Ce jour de Karesme prenant,
Venez vous departir butin?
A present nulluy ne demande,
Fors bon vin et bonne viande,
Banquetz et faire bonne chiere,
Car Karesme vient et commande
A Charnaige, tant qu’on le mande,
Que pour ung temps se tire en arriere.
Ce nous est un mauvais tatin,
Je n’y entens nul bon latin;
Il nous fauldra dorenavant
Confesser, penance faisant;
Fermons lui l’uys a tel hutin.
Qu’esse la? Qui vient si matin?
II.
Saint Valentin, quant vous venez
En Karesme au commencement,
Receu ne serez vrayement
Ainsi que acoustumé avez.
Soussy et Penance amenez:
Qui vous recevroit lyement,
Saint Valentin, quant vous venez
En Karesme au commencement.
Une autrefoiz vous avancez
Plus tost, et alors toute gent
Vous recuilleront autrement,
Et pers a choysir amenez,
Saint Valentin, quant vous venez.
III.
Saint Valentin dit, “Veez me ça,
Et apporte pers a choysir;
Viengne qui y devra venir,
C’est la coustume de pieça.”
Quant le jour de Cendres “hola”
Respond, auquel doit on faillir?
Saint Valentin dit, “Veez me ça
Et apporte pers a choysir.”
Au fort, au matin couvendra
En devocion se tenir,
Et aprés disner a loisir
Choisisse qui choisir vouldra.
Saint Valentin dit, “Veez me ça.”
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Margaret Coats lives in California. She holds a Ph.D. in English and American Literature and Language from Harvard University. She has retired from a career of teaching literature, languages, and writing that included considerable work in homeschooling for her own family and others.
I love this topic, as I think it is very interesting when holidays overlap each other. In 2018, Easter was on April Fools’ Day, and I wrote a poem about that. These forms you’ve translated are beautiful; I love the way the rhymes continue from verse to verse of the poem. The personification of “Carnage” is fun; and rhymes like consequences/commences/influences add just the right touch of humor to the rather absurd-seeming coincidence of the celebratory day with the penitential day. These are very enjoyable poems. And thank you for the note about the meaning of “carnival.” I can’t believe I’d never figured that one out before!
Thank you, Cynthia. I’m very happy your original 2024 poem complemented these of Orleans from the 15th century, and in a profound mode. The French poet sees the humor but is, I believe, sensitive to the real demands of penance and romance. His solution, in the third poem, of combining fast with feast, is one that the Church herself observes for a major celebration like that of Saint Joseph within the Lenten season. Noticing how much you are attuned to these matters, I have ordered both your books and look forward to reading more from you on this ever fascinating theme of time.
Margaret, I am overjoyed that you will be reading my books. Thank you so much!
You translate beautifully while keeping the rhyme! The occasional coincidence of Ash Wednesday and Valentine’s Day is well explained with your note on the choosing of the date of February 14 as the date thought to be when birds find their mate. You are one of my late in life teachers and I thank you.
Thank you for your faithful listening and constant appreciation, Roy.
These are very accomplished and polished translations, but we wouldn’t expect anything less from Margaret.
The mix of Lent, Carnival, and St. Valentine, in a playful bantering give-and-take, is as medieval as a Gothic lancet window and just as delightful. I love Margaret’s kidnapping of the English “carnage” and making it into a term for meat-eating. The French “charnaige” used by Charles d’Orleans must go back to Vulgar Latin *carnaticum, probably unattested.
In earlier times, both Wednesdays and Fridays were meatless days for Catholics. My maternal grandmother remembered that this was still true during her childhood in Sicily (the 1880s and ’90s). But no one made much of it, since meat was always a rare item in most people’s daily diets.
Joe, thanks so much for being delighted at the medieval ability to put contrasts together when they happen to come that way. Neither I nor Orleans was first to personify “Carnage.” I knew what he was doing here because Eustache Deschamps (important poet of the generation before) wrote a rollicking chant royal on Mardi Gras, with Mardi Gras as speaker and Charnage as companion and silent interlocutor. Can you guess why Charnage says nothing? Because he is overwhelmed with the effort of eating all the flesh being thrown out, as it will no longer be permitted food the next day!
Quite seriously, I appreciate your etymological suggestion. The “t” in the proposed “carnaticum” may be reflected in Provencal “carnatge”–but as far as I can see, the Provencal word refers only to the carnage of battle. In my own attempts to explain the “g” as belonging to some word for “eat,” I have both the French “manger” and the Latin “gusto, gustare,” which may mean “eat” as well as “taste.” But I must rely more on the Deschamps poem, which even appears to connect “carnage” as “flesh eating” and “carnage” as “slaughter.” The scene is one of battle between Mardi (day of Mars) against Lent. He expects to be overrun, but looks forward to victory (with the return of flesh meat) at Easter. Maybe I should try for a greasy translation of the piece when Fat Tuesday comes around again.
Linking “manger” to the word in question is tempting, of course.
It’s possible, but almost all French nouns using the -age suffix come from the late Latin -aticum (e.g. “fromage” from “formaticum” or “voyage” from “viaticum.” The Provencal /t/ in “carnatge” is most likely just a southern orthographical convention in words of the same derivation.
I’m so surprised that there is ancient poetry about this dilemma. I truly enjoyed your translation, and it made me realize that having these two observations on the same day is something that has been contemplated for so long.
Glad you enjoyed the poems, Laura. Valentine’s Day was very big in the French Middle Ages, and they shared many of our other holidays as well. I’m always glad to find people aware of the difference a day makes, and wasn’t it amazing that we had enough sinners for distribution of ashes to take more than an hour!
I loved all of them! I don’t know any French at all, but your poems are delightful.
I thought they were delightful in French, and I’m very happy to have been able to share the delight with you, Rohini.
Je n’arrive pas à lire l’original but I really like the English version!
Merci, Warren. It’s always my intent in translating to make a good English poem, and not just convey the rough meaning. Success comes with responses like yours!
Margaret, I am so impressed by your translation of my relative’s poetry.
I would not have known of this relationship had it not been for your kind and generous sharing. I am so proud of it ! Thank you once more, Margaret. Guess I will never get over thanking you. Yours is what true scholarship is all about.
Sally, I’m always happy to do an Orleans poem because I know one of his relations is listening eagerly. This little group had been waiting around for the right occasion, and the arrival of Ash Wednesday on Valentine’s Day brought them out. Your appreciation is much valued!
Margaret, each of these poetic translations is delightful and demonstrates such wonderful command of both the language and the jeweler-like precision of transferring French poetic thought, images and comparable sound-play into English. The circumstances of Ash Wednesday and Valentine’s Day falling on the same day is indeed unusual and creates some risk of cognitive dissonance. How does one reconcile hearts, chocolates and flowers with somber Lent and the reminder through grim ashes of our mortality? I personally love the surprise described in Poem 1: “Why turn up now at Carnival/To keep Lent’s boozy vesperal?” It’s quite charming.
Happy Valentine’s Day and a Meaningful Ash Wednesday!
Brian, thank you for explaining so clearly that translating a poem means more than conveying meaning. It includes “transferring poetic thought, images, and comparable sound-play into English.” Indeed, we value translated poetry as new work in the poet’s craft, and I thank you again for describing mine here as done with “jeweler-like precision” that attends to all these aspects at once. In those lines you love, the words “Carnival” and “boozy vesperal” are not in the Orleans poem. All the rhyme words had to come from English. But the surprised speaker talks of “taking” the day before Lent, and asks Saint Valentine what “booty” he would share on an evening devoted to pleasures of the table rather than those of the heart. The French tone seems a bit drunk, and I had no hesitation making the English sound-play that way with “boozy” coming from the French rhyme word “booty” in the next line.
Thanks for good wishes on the day. It was especially meaningful with so many others at church (more than an hour for distribution of ashes before the main portion of the service began). With all the time spent patiently meditating on mortality, we made a good start to the season.
The first poem has an air of ‘What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas,’ what with the first and the last two lines.
The second poem was my favourite, with the amazing phrase ‘amatory influences’
That said, ‘gambolsome’, in the second poem. is officially my new favourite word.
Thanks for the reads, Margaret.
Yes, Paul! Saint Valentine’s arrival makes the speaker in the first poem sober up a bit, realizing that Lent can’t be far behind. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to open that door . . . or to do so a second time when the next knock comes.
I’m glad you favor “gambolsome.” It has potential for spring poems upcoming!
Thank you as always for your kind attention.
Margaret, although I studied French as a student, I cannot profess to know how accurate these translations are. I would nevertheless like to thank you for giving us access to these otherwise overlooked poems of significance and wonder. Your work is appreciated.
Thank you, Susan. When I read foreign poems of intriguing form and subject, I like some so much that I want to have them in English for quick re-reading. As Brian said above, accuracy is endeavoring to capture as much as possible of the poem’s untranslatable uniqueness in a new English poem. That makes it hard for readers to judge. And as Joseph remarked, these have a “playful bantering give-and-take” that a French dictionary alone can’t supply. You can probably see that I couldn’t bring the rhyme words into English, but needed to find other fitting rhymes for maintaining the tone. I’m glad you find significance and wonder in the work!
Great poetry translation as always Margaret. These medieval poems are delightful to read as they offer a glimpse into a different era and culture. Not knowing anything about Catholic saints or holidays the meaning of these poems would have escaped me, were it not for your careful notes and explanations, thank you.
Yael, I’m especially happy to bring these little poems to you, because I know you enjoy them in both French and English. Today, even Catholics need the notes to recall practices that lapsed during the terrible time called The Changes. Happily, many of us are countering the revolution with renewed observance, and good leaders among the priests are encouraging others. Back in the 1950s, the Church set the tone for society, and my mother had secular magazines like Woman’s Day and Good Housekeeping that published 40 days of suggested menus for meatless meals. Even that is coming back. My local chain supermarket right now has “Lenten sales” on fish and macaroni with cheese.
What a wonderful job translating, Margaret, as always! Although I don’t speak much French, to me it looks like it all came together so perfectly. The contrast of St. Valentine’s Day and Ash Wednesday are clearly shown here, in a very entertaining and jovial way, and the rhymes and word choices are very clever.
Thank you very much, Christina. Orleans’ ideas and word choices to make his three poems different present a real challenge. For example, Ash Wednesday just says “Hola” to interrupt Valentine’s Day festivities, which means something like, “Hey, there!” It became amusing and appropriate when I thought of “Be glum!” Glad you enjoyed the entertainment.