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    • POEM: Truth by Geoffrey Chaucer (4/22/2010 2:22:00 PM)

      Here is my own translation. A bit better than the other, but still exhibiting some scansion problems.

      Flee from the press, and dwell in truthfulness,
      Let your fortunes suffice, though they be small;
      For hoarding breeds hate, and status ambiguousness.
      The mob’s filled with envy and blinded by wealth overall.
      Desire only things which meet needs most crucial.
      Control yourself well, if you’d be others’ gauge;
      And the Truth shall you deliver, of that be not afraid.

      Haste not to redress all crookedness
      Placing trust in her who turns like a ball.
      Great good comes from spurning busy-ness;
      Beware then, not to kick against an awl;
      Don’t strive like a crock against a wall.
      To subdue others' deeds, you must yourself first tame,
      And the Truth shall you deliver, of that be not afraid.

      That which you’re sent, receive in humbleness;
      Wrestling after this World is just begging for a fall.
      This is no Home. It’s naught but Wilderness.
      Forth, Pilgrim, forth! Forth, beast, out of your stall!
      Know your true country! Look up! Thank God for all!
      Let your spirit lead, and hold to the High Way,
      And the Truth shall you deliver, of that be not afraid.

      [PS.]
      Therefore you, Vache, leave your old wretchedness;
      And cease now to the World to be enthralled.
      Beg from Him mercy, who in his great goodness
      Made you from nothing, and this above all —
      Draw unto him, and pray in general
      For yourself, and for others, heavenly grace;
      And the Truth shall you deliver, of that be not afraid.