Greco-Christian stream·Beguine Mystics·The Strofische Gedichten (Stanzaic Poems) of Hadewijch·III

III

The signs show us well in appearance —
birds, flowers, land, the day —
that they shall overcome the trouble
that the winter heavily bore.
Now that Summer can comfort them,
they stand glad-ready to be.
Where I must endure heavy blow,
I would also be glad — if Love would give me
fortune, which she never has.

Ah, what did I do to Fortune,
that it was ever to me so unkind,
that it pressed my nature so sore
above all men manifoldly,
that it did not repay me Love's troth
except sometimes by a tug?
Now perhaps it was my own fault —
so let me err out of my own piece,
that Love may work her free might upon me.

Could I but trust myself upon Love,
it might yet stand me in stead,
since she would let me endure in troth
in good expectation
that Love in troth had so done,
and would behold my need.
Could it be — and not too soon —
for the shield is so hewn-through to me,
it can take no more blows.

Whoever could understand this in goodness,
he had what to me is un-ready:
in scathing, in shame, in sufferings —
all for Love's sake without bitterness —
and for all cost so even-measured
as if this were my best haste:
as one who can do no better.
He who could do this would be called the wise.
I am not; that grieves me.

Now the comfort, now the wound,
Love gives, who is much-skilled in both.
After great blows she gives healing;
how shall any guard himself from her?
He who sets-down all he ever won —
yet she hides from him her own;
to the one she gives, whom she favors,
the sweet kissings of her mouth;
the other she strikes into the ban.

Ay deus,⁴ who shall absolve him
whom Love has placed under the ban?
She, who herself wills that he plead against her —
that he face her so stoutly,
that he hold it all for great gain —
pain and joy in one handling,
and take it all even-handedly for good:
so does Love teach him to jubilate⁵
and make him knowing of all her wonders.

After a great storm the weather grows fair —
this is shown to us often plain.
By turns angry and after pacified,
Love makes-steady to be:
Love proves all to be so fine,
he becomes by Love's pain so bold
that he swears, Love, I am wholly yours;
I have nothing else to spend than you.
Ah noble Love, are you all mine?

Would Fortune let me heal in Love —
Fortune, who ever has so hated me —
I would yet be wholly Love to Love,
if my woe had any better.
So would I, in her deep ford,
lose all my judgments,
and to Love give in Love my treasure;
were my nature so highly risen,
my hunger would be satisfied.

We are too late at Love's expense;
therefore are we to her too strange in this,
thus we remain poor — know it all;
he who at Love's cost set himself near her,
she would give him her kingdom and her treasure.

Song IV

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