| SI TUIT LI DOL E·LH PLOR E·LH MARRIMEN ... |
IF ALL THE PAIN AND TEARS AND SADNESS AND ... |
| Bertrans de Born | trans. James H. Donalson (from Provençal) |
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Si tuit li dol e·lh plor e·lh marrimen E las dolors e·lh dan e·lh chaitivier Qu'om anc auzis en est segle dolen Fosson ensems, sembleran tuit leugier Contra la mort del jove rei engles, Don rema pretz e jovens doloros E·l mons oscurs e tenhz e tenebros, Sems de tot joi, ples de tristor e d'ira. Dolen e trist e ple de marrimen Son remasut li cortes soldadier E·lh trobador e·lh joglar avinen: Trop an agut en Mort mortal guerrier Que tolt lor a lo jove rei engles, Ves cui eran li plus larc cobeitos. Ja non er mais ni no crezatz que fos Ves aquest dan el segle plors ni ira. Estouta Mortz, plena de marrimen, Vanar to potz quel melhor chavalier As tolt al mon qu'anc fos de nula gen, Quar non es res qu'a pretz aia mestier Que tot no fos el jove rei engles; E fora melhz, s'a Deu plagues razos, Que visques el que maint altre enojos Qu'anc no feiron a·ls pros mas dol e ira. D'aquest segle flac, ple de marrimen S'amors s'en vai, son joi tenc mensongier, Que re no·i a que no torn en cosen; Totz jorns viuzis e val mens oi que ier. Chascus se mir el jove rei engles Qu'era del mon lo plus valens del pros; Ar es anatz sos gens corps amoros, Dont es dolors e desconortz e ira. Celui que plac pel nostre marrimen Venir el mon nos traire d'encombrier E receup mort a nostre salvamen, Com a senhor umil e dreiturier, Clamem merce, qu'al jove rei engles Perdo, si·lh platz, si com es vers perdos, El fassa estar ab onratz companhos Lai ont anc dol non ac ni aura ira. |
If all the pain and tears and sadness and the sorrow and the grief and misery yet heard of in this ailing century were put together, they would all seem slight for mourning the Young King of England's death: he leaves behind esteem and saddened youth a world obscured and shadowy and dark, now joyless, full of sadness and of grief. In pain and grief and full of sadness now the courtly soldiery remain behind, the clever jongleur and the troubador: they've found in death a deadly warrior who's taken from them the Young English King. The generous were covetous of him. There is no more, do not believe there was, a world of tears enough to grieve our loss. Proud death, and full of sadness in our time, you may well boast that you have taken now the best of knights produced in any place, for there is nothing useful or worthwhile that the Young King of England didn't have. If God were pleased by reason, then it would be better if he'd lived than all of those who never brought aught else than grief and woe. In this weak world, and full of sadness too, love flies away, it's joy is but deceit; it doesn't have a thing that doesn't fade: it is worth less today than yesterday, and the Young King of England taught us all, for he was the most worthy of the good, and now the loveable has gone away and left discomfort, pain and grief behind. He who is pleased by sadness we may show, in coming with misfortune to our world, receiving death for our salvation, then as to a humble-justice bringing Lord, we beg for mercy, and for the Young King of England, pardon, please, if it is true and may he be with honored fellows there, where there is never pain nor any grief. |
Trans. Copyright © James H. Donalson 2005