Tristan returned to his quarters.
Gathering all his men,
he proceeded together with them
as soon as he could to the harbor.
He went on board the first ship
he found there ready to sail
bound, it happened, for Normandie,
together with his followers.
He spent but little time there,
for he knew that what he needed
was to find a life somewhere
that could provide him with surcease
and a measure of comfort in his sorrow.
Now consider this turn of events:
Tristan fled from toil and suffering
into suffering and toil.
He fled from death and from Marke
only into mortal peril
which would bring death to his heart
by separation from Isolt.
Did it help to flee that death
only to fall prey to this one?
Did it help to escape
the torments of Curnewal
only to struggle with the load
of his own, night and day?
He saved his life for a woman,
a life with a fatal flaw
because of that woman.
The only living thing 
destroying his life and body
was his one viable life, Isolt,
which left him facing death and death.

Thus the idea dawned on him
that to make such a burden 
bearable anywhere on earth
such that he might survive,
it must be done by feats of arms.
There was much news in the land
that a great war had broken out
in the land of Almanje.
When Tristan learned of this,
he made his way through Schampanje
and thence to Almanje, his goal.
He rendered service in that land
to the crown and the scepter.			18450
Never had the Roman Empire
known a man to bear its colors
through such legendary feats
of martial accomplishment.
In this way he attained
great success and fulfillment
in manly endeavors,
which I won't try to retell.
So much has been written
about his exploits and deeds,
that to rehearse them all in detail
would make too marvelous a story.
The fables in those accounts
I can toss to the winds
and still have my hands full
with telling nothing but the truth.

Tristan's double life and death,
his living death, blonde Isolt,
had her own anxieties.
Only the fact that he lived
saved her heart from breaking
on that day she had to watch
Tristan sail away to sea.
That he lived kept her alive.
She had no choice of living
or of dying apart from him.
Death and life had infected her—
she could neither die nor live.
The radiance of her bright eyes
denied itself in eclipse
often and at many times.
The tongue in her mouth
repeatedly fell silent.
There was for her no death, no life,
and yet both were always there.
But in the presence of such pain
each had lost all its power,
so that she could choose neither.
When she saw the sails unfurled,
her heart spoke to itself—
"alas, alas, my own Sir Tristan,
my heart clings firmly to you,
my eyes try to follow after
as you fly from me so quickly—
why do you make such great haste?
I know, oh, yes, well do I know
that you leave behind your life
when you escape from Isolt,
for your life—that am I!
Apart from me, not a day			18500
have you any chance to live,
no more have I without you.
Our beings and our lives
are so woven together,
so thoroughly knotted,
that you take my life with you,
leaving yours behind with me.
Never yet were two lives
so intermingled with each other.
The two of us bear in common
death and life for us both.
Neither of us enjoys the right
to die or to survive alone
without consent of the other.
Therefore, desolate Isolt
is not alive nor truly dead.
I can go neither way.
Now, My Lord, Sir Tristan,
since you are and remain
one being and one life with me,
it is you who must teach me
how to preserve life and being,
first for you, then for myself.
Instruct me then!  Why this silence?
We have sore need of good counsel.
Ah, Isolt, what foolish prattle—
Tristan's tongue and my senses
sail away together there.
Isolt's life, Isolt's being
have been entrusted to no more
that thin sails and the wind.
Now where shall I find myself?
Where must I search?  Where?
Here I am , and I am there,
and yet I'm neither there nor here.
Who was ever more perplexed
or torn apart, than am I?
I see myself there on the water
while I stand here on dry land.
There I sail away with Tristan,
sitting here the while with Marke.
And may both death and life
contest bitterly within me,
on that field they strive in vain.
Gladly would I die.  And yet,
it is he who prevents me,
in whom my life is preserved.
Nor do I, in this extremity,
know how to live for him or me,
since I must live without him.			18550
He leaves me here and off he goes,
knowing well that without him
I am dead within my heart.
God knows, I needn't talk like that—
my distress is shared,
I don't bear it all alone.
It is his as much as mine.
Indeed, he has the greater share.
His pain and misery
are heavier than are mine.
This farewell that he has taken
weighs much on my mind,
but still more heavily on his.
If it pains me to the heart
that I so miss him here,
it must pain him more than me.
I lament his absence—so does he mine,
but he has less right to do so.
I say I can award myself 
the right to sorrow and lament 
Tristan's departure from me,
for my life depends on him,
while his death depends on me.
Therefore he has no complaint.
I am glad to let him go,
preserving his honor and being,
for were he to remain with me,
he could not survive for long.
Therefore I must do without him.
No matter that I'm deeply hurt—
he shall not, for my sake,
have to put himself in peril.
Whatever pain his absence costs me,
I must still prefer by far
that he be safe without me,
rather than to have him here,
all the while in anxiety
that he must surely suffer harm.
For God knows, whoever tries
to save himself by his friend's downfall
bears that friend but little love.
Whatever harm I suffer for him,
I will be Tristan's lover
without causing him harm.
I can bear eternal sadness
as long as his affairs prosper.
Gladly will I compel myself
in everything I undertake
to give up myself and him
that he may live for himself and me."