E.l reis Enrics, per so qu'el volia mal a.N Bertran, per so qu'el era amics e conseillaire del rei Jove, son fill, lo quals avia auda guerra ab el, e crezia qu'En Bertrans n'agues tota la colpa, si.l pres ad ajudar, e.l coms Richartz sos fillz, e feiron gran ost et assetgeiron Autafort, et a la fin preiseron lo castel e.N Bertran. E can fon menatz al pavaillon, denan lo rei, ac gran paor. E.l reis Enrics si.l dis: "Bertrans, Bertrans, vos avetz dig que anc la meitatz del vostre sen ac mestier nulls temps, mas sapchatz qu'ara vos a el ben mestier totz." "Seigner", dis En Bertrans, "el es ben vers qu'eu o dissi, et disai ben vertat." E.l reis dis: "Eu cre ben qu'el vos sia aras faillitz." "Seigner", dis En Bertrans, "ben m'es faillitz." "E com?" dis lo reis. "Seigner", dis En Bertrans, lo jorn que.l valens Joves reis, vostre fillz, mori, eu perdei lo sen e.l saber e la conoissensa." Per las paraulas la quals el membret al rei Enric del rei Jove, son fill, lo reis li rendet Autafort e perdonent li . . .
(from the razos.)

I. Planh
Si tuit li dol e.l plor e.lh marrimen

Si tuit li dol e.l plor e.lh marrimen
E las dolors e.lh dan e.lh chaitivier
Que om anc auzis en est segle dolen
Fossen ensems, sembleran tot leugier
Contra la mort de.l jove rei engles,
Don rema pretz e jovens doloros
E.l mens oscurs e teintz e tenebros,
Sems de tot joi, ples de tristor e d'ira.

Dolen e trist e ple de marrimen
Son remasut li cortes soudadier
E.lh trobador e.lh joglar avinen,
Trop an agut en mort mortal guerrier;
Que tout lor a lo jove rei engles,
Ves cui eran li plus larc cobeitos;
Ja non er mais ni no crezatz que fos
Vez azuest dan e.l segle plors ni ira.

Estenta mortz, plena de marrimen,
Vanar ti potz que.l melhor chavalier
As tout a.l mon qu'anc fos de nula gen,
Quar non es res qu'a pretz aia mestier.
Que tot no fos e.l jove rei engles,
E fora mielhs, s'a dieu plagues razos,
Que visques el que maint autre enoios
Qu'anc no feiron pros mas dol et ira.

D'aquest segle flac, ple de marrimen,
S'amors s'en vai, son joi tenh menzongier,
Que re no.i a que non torn en cozen,
Totz jorns veuzis e val mens huoi que hier;
Chascus si mir e.l jove rei engles,
Qu'era de.l mon lo plus valens pros;
Ar' es anatz sos gens cors amoros,
Don es dolors e desonortz et ira.

Celui que plac pe.l nostre marrimen
Venir e.l mon nos traire d'encombrier,
E receup mort a nostre salvamen,
Com a senhor humil e drechurier
Clamem merce, qu'a.l jove rei engles
Perdo, si.lh platz, si com es vers perdos,
E.l fassa estar ab honratz companhos
Lai on anc dol non ac ni aura ira.

"Si tuit li dol e.lh plor e.lh marrimen"
from the Occitan of Bertran de Born

And king Henry attacked Sir Bertran, for he wished him harm--for Bertran had been friend and counselor to Henry's son, the Young king, who had waged war against his father, and Henry held Bertran wholly culpable. He and his son, Count Richard, enlisted a large army and they laid seige to Autafort, and in the end took Bertran's castle. And when Bertran was led out onto the pavillion before king Henry, he feared greatly.
"Bertran, Bertran, you have said that you never have had need of even half your wits, but I tell you that today you will need all of them."
"Sir", said Bertran, "it is true that I have said that, and it is the truth."
And the king replied, "Indeed, I believe that today you have no wits at all."
"Sir", said Bertran, "indeed I have none."
"How so?" asked the king.
"Sir", said Bertran, "the day that the valiant Young king, your son, died, I lost all wit, all knowledge, and all reason."
"And for the words which Bertran spoke remembering the Young king, king Henry pardoned him and restored him to Autafort."
(from the razos.)

All the grief, the tears, the distress,
the sufferings that weigh
on this unquiet earth, weighed together,
would weigh less
than the death of the Young king.
Worth mourns, and Youth, the light hurled
from them and the outworn world--
all is joyless, all bitterness

Heavy the hearts, hard the distress,
of the Court's soldiers who are left,
and of the jongleurs and trobadors--
Death proved itself a deadly warrior:
it took as plunder the Young king.
Beside him the most bounteous were mean.
No loss will be, nor has been
to equal this in bitterness.

Death, dull braggart, clothed in distress,
you boast the best man of all regiments,
for you have taken him
and Worth's horse is riderless--
all worth was found in the Young king.
It would have been better had God chosen
to leave him and take one of the spineless
who bring only bitterness.

Here is a liar joy, here distress,
love leaving the black earth. Things progress,
days slacken into days worth less.
Only pain does not slacken; it stays
with us to wonder at the Young king
who was valiant and is gone.
Courage too is abandoned.
All is bitterness.

To Him Who for our distress
came into this world, and for our flesh
suffered death, to Him from High,
for He is most merciful, we cry,
o deliver the Young king!
seat him with you, among the heroes
where there never was sorrow
nor ever bitterness.

(South Hadley, Massachusetts; 1978)

Manuscript Source: R. T. Hill and T. G. Bergin (1973), Anthology of the Provençal Troubadours, 2nd ed. (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press), I.

(NOTE: The jove rei engles is Henry, the son of Henry II of England. Bertran pitted him against his father, according to the legend. I translated this poem while working with Richard Pevear. Note that its meter and rhyme scheme seems very similar to that in one of 'al-Khansaa's laments for her brother; see: It's also interesting to see the repetition of the same rhyme words in the first (marrimen) and fifth (jove rei engles) line of every stanza.

The razos: I have combined excerpts from two different razos, both referring to the same incident, but giving different details.