Como imagino que en el Foro hay poca gente que hable langue d'Occitaine, aquí os dejo el poema que Ricardo Corazón de León le mandó a su hermana desde prisión pero en inglés... no he encontrado traducción al castellano
No prisoner will ever speak his mind
fittingly unless he speaks in grief.
But he can, for consolation, make a song.
I have many friends, but their gifts are poor.
It will be their shame if, for want of ransom,
I stay these two winters prisoner.
They know well, my men and my barons
of England, Normandy, Poitou, and Gascony,
I never had a poor companion
I would leave in prison for money.
I do not say this as a reproach,
but I am still a prisoner.
Now I know for sure,
a dead man or a prisoner has no friend or family,
because they leave me here for gold and silver.
That’s my concern, but even more my people’s,
for when I am dead they will be shamed,
if I die [remain long] a prisoner.
It is no wonder I have a grieving heart,
for my lord keeps my land in torment.
Now if he remembered our vow
that we both took together,
I know I would not long be here a prisoner.
They know well, the men of Anjou and Touraine,
those bachelors, now so magnificent [rich] and safe,
that I am arrested, far from them, in another’s hands.
They used to love me much, now they love me not at all.
There’s no lordly fighting now on the barren plains,
because I am a prisoner.
Tell my companions whom I loved and love --
the men of Caen and Perche --
Song, tell them they are not men to rely on;
the heart I had for them was never false or faltering.
If they turn against me now, they act like peasants,
as long as I remain a prisoner.
Countess, sister, may your sovereign worth
be watched and defended by Him I appeal to,
for whose sake I am a prisoner.
I do not speak about the one in Chartres,
Louis’s mother.
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La expresión suprema de la belleza es la sencillez.
Alberto Durero.