F. Villon: Ballade Du Concours De Blois

At the steps of the spring I sit...

At the steps of the spring I sit and die of thirst
hot as fire, and chatter in my teeth
a distant stranger in my own fair land.
By hot coals see me shiver burning,
naked as a worm and kingly clad,
laughing tears, waiting without hope
and taking bitter comfort in my grief.
I played the fool; and yet no one was pleased
took power; but lacked force or drive
well welcomed, thrust aside by all.

Nothing is more sure than that which hidden lies
obscure, but that which I can see
nothing doubtful, save what all hold true.
Science I hold as sudden accident
gaining all, I live perpetual loss
at break of day pray God wish me good night.
Ready for flight and yet afraid to fall
receive in vain that which I cannot hold
await a heritage yet heir to none am born
well welcomed, thrust aside by all.

Nothing is my care if I use all my force
to bring about a good yet never live in grace
who kindliest speaks, he bears the worst offence
and truest, utters blackest lie.
He is my true friend who bids me see
a wizened crow in church-white swan
and drowns me, meaning to bear aid.
Spurned, degraded, all the days the same
holding all, my deeds slip through my grasp
well welcomed, thrust aside by all.

Kind Lord, it pleased you once to know
that I hear deaf and lack the sense to know:
I hold my counsel, yet keep same mind as all
what more can I?  Allow the pawns to rule!
Well welcomed, thrust aside by all.

Translation © 2026 Jurek Kirakowski