Farewell

Poem by Paul Verlaine Collection Liturgies intimesThemes LovePeriod 19th century

Alas! I was not made for this hatred
And for this contempt stronger than I that I have.
But why was I made this lamb without wool
And why was I made this outraged heart?

I was born to please any somewhat proud soul,
A sort of man in dream and capable of the best,
Sometimes all smile and sometimes all prayer,
And always tender heavens in the eyes;

Always the goodness of sincere caresses,
In spite of everything and whatever it seemed,
Always the modesty of necessary shames
In brutal money and the stupors of rut;

Always forgiveness, always sacrifice!
I had more than one fault, but I had all the care.
Your mother was tenderly my accomplice,
Who saw my faults and my care, she, at least.

She did not like that through you I should suffer.
She is dead and I prayed on her tomb;
But I strongly doubt that she approves and blesses
The present thing and finds it beautiful.
And I am also afraid, we in earth, to believe
That the poor child, your son and mine,
Will not venerate too much your memory,
O you without regard for mine and thine.

I was not made to say these things,
I whose speech once exhaled
An epithalamium in apotheoses,
That morning song in which your voice lied.

I was, I am born to please noble souls,
To console them a little from an impure world,
Golden crest singer and tunic of flames,
I the Knight who bleeds on azure,

I who must die a sweet and chaste death
Of which the swan and the eagle still will be jealous,
In victorious honor despite this you nefarious,
In the glory also of the Illustrious Spouses!

Paul Verlaine

Text published on Poésies 123: https://www.poesies123.com/en/poem-farewell-paul-verlaine/