casamar

Does anyone have translations for spanish renaissance songs:
Con amores la mi madre by juan de Anchieta
Quien amores ten by Luis Milan
Dame acogida by Estaban Daza
De antequera by Cristobal de Morale

If you would post lyrics, I'm sure that would get you some translations. I'm looking forward to seeing what a Spanish renaissance song looks like!

I sent the lyrics somewhere on this site, will re-send here,sorry no diacriticals
Quien amores ten
A fin que los ben
que non he viento que va y ven.
Quien amores ten
Alla en castella:
e ten sen amor en dama donzella.
A fin que los ben e no partad'ella
que no he viento que va y ven.

Dame acogida en tu hato
Buen Pastor, que Dios te duela,
cata que en al monte yela.
Esta noche en tu cabana
acoge al triste y cuitado,
Mira que el tiempo se ensana
pastorcito, Dios te duel, cata en el monte yela.

Con amores, la mi madre, con amores m'a dormi,.
Asi dormida sonaba, lo quel corazon velaba, qu'el amor me consolaba
con mas bien que mereci.

De antequera sale el moro, de antequera se salia;
cartas llevaba en su mano, cartas de mensajeria;
Iban escriptas con sange y no por falta de tinta;
El moro que las' llevaba ciento y veinte anos habia.

This is beautiful! I can get phrases here and there but there are many words that I can't figure out. The first stanza/verse is a killer. Here is my extremely HUMBLE attempt; I'm way out of my league here. I hope someone out there can give this an honest try.

Con amores, la mi madre, con amores m'a dormi,.
Asi dormida sonaba, lo quel corazon velaba, qu'el amor me consolaba
con mas bien que mereci.

With love of my mother, with love I slept
While sleeping I was dreaming, of what my heart kept guarded, that which love consoled
With much more that I deserved.

De antequera sale el moro, de antequera se salia;
cartas llevaba en su mano, cartas de mensajeria;
Iban escriptas con sange y no por falta de tinta;
El moro que las' llevaba ciento y veinte anos habia.

From "antequera" comes the moor, it was leaving from "antequerra";
Carrying letters in his hand, letters carrying messages;
Written with blood and not for lack of ink;
The moor that was taking them was one hundred twenty years old