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"work": {
"slug": "hadewijch-strofische-gedichten",
"name": "The Strofische Gedichten (Stanzaic Poems) of Hadewijch"
},
"parents": [
{
"slug": "beguine-mystics",
"name": "Beguine Mystics",
"url": "/sources/beguine-mystics/"
}
],
"chapter": {
"num": 9,
"slug": "vol-9-01-songs-41-45",
"title": "Section IX",
"of": 9,
"words": 3190,
"text": "## Section IX\n\n**The closing section of the *Strofische Gedichten*. The project translation of the entire 45-Song cycle is now COMPLETE** at approximately 32K English words across nine sections. Section IX covers Songs XLI–XLV:\n\n- **Song XLI** — *Though this New Year has begun — both the month and the year — here is gladness yet little won, for the clear days are wanting to us*. Eight stanzas of dialectical address to Love over her unintelligibility: *Ah Love, your anger or your favor we cannot distinguish, nor your high will and our debt — why you come or flee. For by little service you can give your sweet wonders in great clarity, and that seems by little wrong forgiven, and then you give blows and bitter death*. Closes with the famous emblem: *This is one of the all-strongest fortresses, and the fairest defense that anyone saw, and the highest wall and the best moats — by which Love may no more escape*.\n- **Song XLII** — *Come is the sorrowful time, from without and much more from within, that you, Beloved, have left us — that is an unconquerable affliction*. The famous **Song of Songs 1:3** echo at the center: ***Your name is as oil poured out, Love*** (cf. *oleum effusum nomen tuum*); *sweet and gentle, pleasant for-all-things, but above all you are pleasure to the inward sinne — they are sown very thinly, who fat-grow-fed in this name*. Closes with: *If Love hid anything from Love, that would be to the soul an evil blow; she must in hunger's frenzy languish, who by nothing but Love can be satisfied*.\n- **Song XLIII** — **The All Saints' Day Song**. *When the heavy winter is kindled to us, that makes many a heart heavy / in that season is openly / the feast of all the saints / bare. I have endured many a hazard, but above all goes my hazard: how I shall attain to Love*. The most-cited middle: ***Day and night of Love I have* — *who by night should make me have day. Desire makes me complain; Pleasure tells me always to complain; and Reason counsels that I bear it***. Closes with the famous: ***All who tremble before Love's greatness, and in hope of her greatness live — Love shall grow more to them than lack***.\n- **Song XLIV** — *As the fruits of the year are come to us openly, without sorrow and without fear, by which the whole world lives glad — so he has sorrow and hunger heavy who desires Love and has not the fullness*. Famous reprise of the Song XVIII epigram: ***Ah Love, temper your mighty powers; you have the days and I the nights. What set you to chase me, when you in chase before me flee? You make me pay such a lease — it shudders me that I ever became human***.\n- **Song XLV** — **The Closing Macaronic Hymn**. The final Song of the entire cycle. Ten short stanzas, each closing with a Latin liturgical-hymnic tag, forming a kind of *envoi* in which the whole Latin liturgical-vocabulary of Love is gathered: ***verus amor*** (true Love), ***cordis clamor*** (the heart's cry), ***laus et honor*** (praise and honor), ***traxit odor*** (the odor drew — Song of Songs 1:4 *trahe me post te in odorem unguentorum tuorum*), ***medicina*** (medicine), ***vrouwe et regina*** (Lady and Queen — bilingual Dutch-Latin), ***condimentum*** (seasoning), ***sacramentum*** (sacrament), ***redemptori*** (to the Redeemer), ***bene mori*** (to die well). The closing-of-the-whole-cycle tag is the eschatological *bene mori* — the soul's prayer that she may die well; the last word the *Strofische Gedichten* place in the mouth of the Beguine lover.\n\nSame conventions as previous Sections. Latin tags in Song XLV are kept in Latin in the body, with a single composite footnote at the end. Below the 5K-word judge threshold; self-review only.\n\n---\n\n## Song XLI\n\nXLI.\n\nThough this New Year has begun
\n— both the month and the year —
\nhere is gladness yet little won,
\nfor the clear days are wanting to us
\nand other gladness manifold
\nthat makes young hearts glad.
\nBut above all has he no patience
\nwho desires Love and tastes-not-the-fullness.\n\nAh, to him grow grievous the deep ways
\nof one who shall seek-out far misery,
\nwho wanders after Love and has refusal.
\nHis misfortune does him well woe
\n— that he knows so little of her
\nwhereby he may be sure
\nwhether to Love he is dear or grievous.
\nHe lives well often a sorrowful day.\n\nAh Love, your anger or your favor
\nwe cannot distinguish —
\nyour high will and our debt,
\n*why you come or flee*.
\nFor by little service you can give
\nyour sweet wonders in great clarity,
\nand that seems by little wrong forgiven,
\nand then you give blows and bitter death.\n\nAh Love, how shall we learn
\nwhither you can come and whither you go?
\nWhere shall we against you turn,
\nand the storms by which you strike us down?
\nAnd by what strength shall remain to us
\nyour sweet wonders in wise clarity,
\nso that we do not by lowness drive them off,
\nor it may happen that to us they grow strange?\n\nAh, in miserable dark ways
\nLove lets us wander well,
\nin many a storm without victory,
\nwhere she seems to us cruel and fell.
\nAnd to some she gives without pain
\nher great joy manifold.
\nThese are to us very strange showings,
\nbut they who suffice her know her free might.\n\nAh Love, in whichsoever you do it,
\nyour goings-away seem anger.
\nBut he who is *fier* and wise
\n— for him it is best to follow her in all,
\nin sweet, in sour, in comfort, in fear,
\ntill he fully knows what you will of him.
\nWhen you show him your will so clearly,
\nhis woe is in peace stilled.\n\nAh, he who voyages far must endure
\nwhat the adventure gives him.
\nSo must the lover work narrowly
\nbefore he sufficiently fulfills Love.
\nHe must will at every season
\nher high will and nothing else,
\nand otherwise neither be saddened nor gladdened —
\nwhatever else befall him.\n\nAh, he who thus wholly loves Love's will
\n— there may his Love be enough to herself —
\nin high rumor, in low stillness,
\nin all that Love ever made known to him.
\n**This is one of the all-strongest fortresses,
\nand the fairest defense that any ever saw,
\nand the highest wall, and the best moats,
\nby which Love may no more escape.**\n\n---\n\n## Song XLII\n\nXLII.\n\nCome is the sorrowful time
\n— from without, and much more from within —
\nthat you, Beloved, have left us;
\nthat is an unconquerable affliction.
\nThe good which you gave us once before
\n— that is taken from us by strange turning,
\nand your rich teaching,
\nand how-you-are-your-own-self.\n\nIf you will, Love, dis-inherit us of yourself,
\nwe know not whither to flee.
\nSo must we altogether come to ruin;
\nwe should know not from whom we are kept.
\nWe shall yet comfort ourselves in this:
\nthat you said *It is true; it shall happen* —
\nmen shall not doubt in this:
\nwere you heightened, you would fulfill.\n\nAh Love, who shall in himself fully heighten you,
\nthat he wholly draw out all that you are?
\nWho shall the deep dales strive-toward,
\nthe high mountains, the wide fields,
\nwith deep humility in your diligence,
\nwith trust in high delight,
\nstrong in the strife
\n— help quickly, Love; there is need; it is time.\n\n***It is like, your high name,
\nas oil poured out, Love*** —
\nsweet and gentle pleasant for all,
\nbut above all you are pleasure to the inward *sinne*.
\nThey are sown very thinly
\nwho grow-fat-fed therein,
\nand who well know, Love,
\nof your name the rich winning.\n\nTherefore, Love, your name is poured out
\nand overflows with floods of wonder.
\nSo the up-growing have flowed-through
\nand love in frenzy beyond counsel.
\nSo they do many a rich deed
\nand call: *all-free in trust
\nis all my counsel*.
\nAh, how he goes through who fully reaches.\n\nHe fights not, who does not defend himself.
\nHe who would grow-up shall not spare himself.
\nHe who without food is consumed —
\nit is seldom that honor happens to him.
\nHe is timid who flees
\nwhat counseled him to hunt himself.
\nThat is Love, who promised us her kingdom.
\nAh, nothing less than all may suffice us.\n\nMay any thing remake the heart
\nthat is not Love herself all?
\nThat goes outside the soul's taste,
\nfor she shall be enough by nothing
\nbut Love's birth that up-wells,
\nand the great wonders without number
\n— unto the in-falling
\nwhere Love hid Love no Love.\n\n**That Love should hide anything from Love
\n— that would be to the soul an evil blow.
\nShe must languish in hunger's frenzy,
\nwho can be satisfied by nothing but Love.**
\nBut heart and sense may well do otherwise:
\nin pastimes and in play,
\nand in poor enjoyment
\nthey change about their sorrow.\n\n---\n\n## Song XLIII\n\nXLIII.\n\nWhen the heavy winter is kindled to us
\nthat makes many a heart heavy,
\nin that season is openly
\nthe feast of all the saints, bare.
\nI have endured many a hazard;
\nbut above all goes my hazard
\n*how I shall attain to Love*.\n\nI cannot comfort myself with Love;
\nthrough her, gain is all grief to me.
\nShe is the strength of my *sinne*,
\nfor she is herself counsel and sense.
\nWhether I lose or win,
\nLove shall be my gain;
\nfor she is herself enough in all things.\n\nAh Love, were it any time to your liking —
\nit were to me well long the time
\nthat you beheld the miserable wideness
\nthat is to me too long and too wide,
\nand that you make my heart glad
\nthat is over-seldom gladdened
\nsince I after you first must hook.\n\nHow gladly would I see the letters
\nhow you, Love, have in your charter
\nyour over-hearty dear-ones;
\nhow you with Love love your Beloved,
\nthat I myself with Love might raise up with them;
\nfor I never raised myself in Love
\nas those do now who taste of you.\n\nAh fine Love, alone pure —
\nwhen do you make me so pure to you
\nthat I to you may suffice in nature?
\nFor to me all is un-nature.
\nAll other matters are sour to me;
\nbut above all is to me this sour —
\nthat I cannot to you attain.\n\nAh, without Love I was ever unwillingly,
\nfor that is the most-needful of all needs.
\nThose who without Love live are dead.
\nBut above all is this one death —
\nthat Love against Beloved be timid;
\nfor perfect Love was never timid.
\nShe sought-out her rights, where she lacked them.\n\nAh worthy nature, fine Love —
\nwhen do you make my nature so fine
\nto suffice all your nature?
\nFor I would altogether suffice;
\nso were all my other things,
\nand to that all your things mine —
\nin wonder in your fire I would blaze-out.\n\nAh Love, those who are of your kind —
\nfeed your nature after your kind.
\nWhoever spared his nature before you —
\nhe remained before you nature-spared.
\nBut whom your nature ever for an hour clarified,
\nhe remains in your nature clarified,
\nso that he lives after fulfilling.\n\nHe who would be fulfilled — let him have humility,
\nand in all his power humility.
\nThen comes all his work to good;
\notherwise nothing ever did him good.
\nIn all luck, in strength, in success —
\nthey had no more of Love's success
\nwho took any of Love's work to themselves.\n\nOne shall also in misfortune
\nfor Love's sake choose misfortune.
\nSo Love's strength helps them all,
\nwhere she with her own self is wholly
\nin her great wonders without count
\n— wherein there is nevermore count.
\nThen may he with Love go a-snatching.\n\n**Day and night of Love I have
\n— who by night should make me have day.
\nDesire makes me complain;
\nPleasure tells me always to complain;
\nand Reason counsels that I bear it,
\nand says: through Love's work and through endurance,
\nunto you your work shall itself help in avenging.**\n\nBy Reason's counsel the work is fair;
\nI do not say that it may not be made fairer.
\nReason rewards us with great rewards;
\nbut Love has herself at hand rewarded.
\nShe shows by hours such a tone
\n— which had she withheld and had shown —
\nthat would be soft, the deep prickings.\n\n*Fier* hearts wander after Love's ground.
\nLove has yet no ground at all.
\nTo lack her — that is her un-health,
\nwhereof she late becomes whole.
\nWhen she nearest has of Love's knowing,
\nthen becomes Love from the first un-known to her;
\nthen desire makes her veins crack.\n\nOne must give over all-Love for Love.
\nHe is wise who all-Love for Love gives over.
\nAll-one whether they die or live;
\nto die for Love is enough-having-lived.
\nAh Love, you have long driven me back;
\nbut in whatsoever you drove me back,
\nI will keep watch for you Love-all-Love.\n\nAh Love, do you yet wish my stumbling?
\nHowever unwilling I ever have stumbled,
\nI will all suffer to draw near you.\n\n**All who tremble before Love's greatness
\nand in hope of her greatness live —
\nLove shall grow to them more than lack.**\n\n---\n\n## Song XLIV\n\nXLIV.\n\nAs the fruits of the year
\nare come to us all openly,
\nwithout sorrow and without fear
\n(of which all the world lives glad)
\n— so he has sorrow and hunger heavy
\nwho desires Love and has not the fullness.\n\nWhat each desires, that he would gladly take;
\nbut of Love is the greatest woe — to be without.
\nFor that I warn every man
\nthat he be aware of it, ready,
\nfor all other pain is in jest
\nbefore Love's desire without success.\n\nTo others things may yet become good
\nwho wander not in Love's *orewoet*
\n— they appear before the strange wise,
\nwho are so not in Love wholly torn.
\nWho can well do it, let him be wary —
\nhe has no turning who sailed into it.\n\nSome, at the beginning, into Love
\nturn their *sinne* through play,
\nso that they are so sailed-in there
\nthat with them out of the play it goes —
\nwhether they lose or win,
\nthe turnings are well un-ready for them.\n\nOne may not in Love lose anything,
\nthough she may slowly provide it.
\nShe has ever gladly given what she promised
\nto him who believes — let him wait for it.
\nThat is to set-trust on such enjoyment
\nas one who hangs from a tree before he is taken down.\n\nHe who hangs — what good waiting has he?
\nAnd he who lives in Love's bond,
\nthat is all-one, and he who gives all for Love.
\nAh Love, see yourself to it
\n— however far you ever in show drove him —
\nsee that your nature in him be fulfilled.\n\nIt may well be that Love fulfills.
\nBut the near-need is good for the poor:
\nthat Love spend her own with Love.
\nThat is well-just; she is so great;
\nand let her ever do us fair encounter —
\nher sparing is worse than wholly dead.\n\n***Ah Love, do you again spare me?
\nThen I spare you, of which I summon you.
\nI wonder by what matter it is
\nthat you are so strange to me.
\nYou are far from me, and I am near you.
\nFor this I ever live a sorrowful time.
\n
\nAh Love, temper your mighty powers;
\nyou have the days, and I the nights.
\nWhat set you to chase me
\nwhen you in chase flee before me?
\nYou make me pay such a lease —
\nit shudders me that I ever became human.***\n\n---\n\n## Song XLV\n\nXLV.\n\nAh, in whichsoever the season is kindled,
\nthere is in all the wide world
\nnothing that may give me delight
\nbut ***verus amor***.\n\nAh Love — upon troth — for you are all
\nmy soul's joy, my heart's diligence;
\nhave mercy on the need; look on the strife;
\nhear ***cordis clamor***.\n\nAh, what I cry and lament of my woe —
\nlet Love do with me her pleasure.
\nI will give her all my days;
\n***laus et honor***.\n\nAh Love, on troth — could your eye behold —
\nfor that makes me bold that I speak of it,
\nbecause to me first upon your high steps
\nyour ***traxit odor***.\n\nAh Love, yes you, who never lied,
\nfor you showed me in youth
\nthat for which I now languish; for you can —
\nbe ***medicina***.\n\nAh, yes Love, you who are advocate of all,
\ngive me for Love what you most exalt,
\nfor you are mother of all virtue,
\n***vrouwe et regina***.\n\nAh, worthy Love, fine, pure —
\nwill you behold how I endure,
\nand be in my bitter sour
\n***condimentum***.\n\nAh, I wander too heavy in adventure;
\nto me all other matters are sour.
\nFulfill me, Love, with your high nature,
\n***sacramentum***.\n\nAh, whether I am in gain or in scath,
\nlet it be all Love by your counsel.
\nYour blows are to me enough grace,
\n***redemptori***.\n\nAh, whether I wade the ford or climb the grade,
\nwhether I am in hunger or in saturation,
\nthat I to you, Love, sufficiently fulfilled —
\n**bene mori**.1\n\n---\n\n**Translator's footnote (project translation)**\n\n1 The closing Latin tags of Song XLV — ***verus amor*** (true Love), ***cordis clamor*** (the heart's cry), ***laus et honor*** (praise and honor), ***traxit odor*** (the odor drew — directly from Song of Songs 1:4 in the Vulgate, *trahe me post te in odorem unguentorum tuorum*, *draw me after you in the odor of your ointments*), ***medicina*** (medicine), ***vrouwe et regina*** (Lady and Queen — the only macaronic Dutch-Latin tag of the ten, *vrouwe* in Middle Dutch and *regina* in Latin), ***condimentum*** (seasoning, salt), ***sacramentum*** (sacrament), ***redemptori*** (to the Redeemer, dative addressing Christ), ***bene mori*** (to die well, the eschatological *bona mors* of the medieval *ars moriendi* tradition). Each tag is set apart in the original manuscripts in a distinct script. The Latin tags form a kind of liturgical-hymnic *envoi* in which the whole Latin liturgical-vocabulary of mystical Love is gathered. The closing-of-the-whole-cycle tag is the eschatological ***bene mori*** — the soul's prayer that she may die well; the last word the *Strofische Gedichten* place in the mouth of the Beguine lover. Van Mierlo notes that this closing Song carries decorative paratext in the manuscripts marking it as the *coda* of the entire 45-Song cycle.\n\n---\n\n**The project translation of Hadewijch's complete *Strofische Gedichten* (45 Songs) is now shipped at approximately 32K English words across nine sections. With the earlier completion of the *Visioenen* (six sections, ~28K words), the Hadewijch project translation has shipped the two major works of the corpus; the *Brieven* (Letters) and *Mengeldichten* remain. Source for both is in hand: *Brieven* at /tmp/hade_werk02.txt (Vol II of the 1895 Werken), *Mengeldichten* at /tmp/hade_werk01.txt lines 5091ff. (the second half of Vol I of the 1875 Werken).**",
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"license": "CC0 1.0 Universal",
"methodology_url": "https://anthroposophy.ai/about/translations/"
}
}