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pope empty chair

I’m mourning Pope Benedict XVI. No he didn’t die but he is the pope of my conversion, the spiritual father who changed my life with his writings on hope and love and I am not ready to let him go.

I don’t listen to modern music. I don’t stream, I don’t download etc… I do, however, read poetry. To say farewell to my beloved father, I would like to share this French poem by Edmond Haraucourt.

Le Rondel de l’adieu

Partir, c’est mourir un peu,
C’est mourir à ce qu’on aime:
On laisse un peu de soi-même
En toute heure et dans tout lieu.

C’est toujours le deuil d’un voeu,
Le dernier vers d’un poème;
Partir, c’est mourir un peu,
C’est mourir à ce qu’on aime.

Et l’on part, et c’est un jeu,
Et jusqu’à l’adieu suprême
C’est son âme que l’on sème,
Que l’on sème en chaque adieu:
Partir, c’est mourir un peu.

Song of Farewell
(Translation by Edmund Hodges)

To part is to die a little,
It is to die to what we love:
One leaves a little of one’s self
In every hour and in every place.

It is always the mourning of a wish,
The last verse of a poem;
To part is to die a little,
To die to what we love.

And one leaves, and it’s a game,
And until the final farewell
With one’s soul one makes
One’s mark at each goodbye:
To part is to die a little.