Epilogue, Translation of Paul Verlaine's Poem: Epilogue

Epilogue, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s poem : Epilogue By way of a Farewell to « personal » poetry. Paul Verlaine, March 1895 (Towards the end of his rather short and tumultuous life, Verlaine in this poem – after composing somewhat in the manner of his times by distilling his own expériences in rhymed and fixed stanzaic forms - makes us believe wishes to put an end to his « personal » compositions. He died of pulmonary congestion on January 8, 1896. T. Wignesan) So, therefore, Farewell Dear me-Myself That which decent people have held to blame. The poor people ! Who put much love to flame Remain much flattered (Lady, as when she loves herself !) Farewell, Dear Me, joy and chagrin Of which, it seems, I spoke of far too much That no one wants more of : I have done with such. From now on , I must my Self drown. In the heart of hearts – how might one holler ? Of Impersonal Art, and to take a dignified stand That I assume a cold-blooded stance, To celebrate you ! O ! Walhalla ! For, Buddha, to celebrate your rites And your customs in all countries ! And as for those of my country, O ! Ssh ! Talk of your drawbacks and your merits. And in breath-stopping plays Amidst novels put together synthetic Or, well, in the manner analytic, Stretch myself out in stupefying tropes ! Farewell, Dear Me-Myself, out of work I feel the numbness of the tomb already Casting sneaky glances at us through beauty On towards a project for unique-headed Art Farewell ! Heart ! No need for more fare-thee-wells : This’s a little like mud somewhat Piled up on one’s austere Head – and over Art – What with these « unresolved farewells ». © T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013