The Troubadour poem #22 tells about
how the speaker is just pining away for the woman he loves, and how simply
wonderful she is and how his love is so great that nothing can bother him,
everything seems bright and joyful and nothing is bad. He also says “There’s
still one thing I am sure of: I have conquered nothing less than her beautiful
image”. He’s ridiculously happy to love this girl, and to be able to love her
as much as he does, even though he’s far away from her; he’s still content just
to know how much he adores her. That’s a little different from other
impressions we get of people loving others but being away from them. He might
not be with this girl all the time, but he knows she’s beautiful and he loves
her and that is enough for him. The Trobairitz poem by Azalais de Porcairages
has some similar imagery as the previous poem, of ice and snow and mud, nothing
singing. However, in her poem, there’s not really any joy; it’s all lamenting
and sad. She’s obviously not happy, as opposed to the Troubadour poem where
even though it may be cold and windy his heart is still warm and full of love.
Azalais says “My heart is so disordered that I’m rude to everyone”. It’s a
completely different mood from the first poem, saying how the things around her
match her mood, with birds not even wanting to sing. She even says “..I shall
never be consoled”.
There was definitely a difference
between both sets of poems—the women authors had sadder poems that were more
about losing love than the men’s, which were praising beauty and telling how
full their hearts were and how happy they were.
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