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Farewell, My Fancy

Yesterday I completed publishing the entire Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman.  It was a follow-up to my series publishing two different translations of the Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám.  Back in November of last year I bogged down on blogging and temporarily abandoned daily updates of the blog.  I let the Daily Whitman series lapse, as well as the Friday music and the Sunday “Quote for the Week”.  Finally, a few weeks ago, I restarted everything.  I was closer to the end than I realized, and it seems like saying goodbye to an old friend to have Daily Whitman finally come to an end.

I will keep posting music on Fridays and quotes on Sundays.  I have a couple of possible contenders for daily poetry to post, but I haven’t made a decision yet.  I think it salutary to take a few days off and decide what I want to do, and then go from there.  In the meantime, I hope all of you who may be regular, semi-regular, or sporadic readers have enjoyed the Daily Whitman, and before it, the Rubá’í of the Day series.  Keep checking this space for poetry to come!

Tamám Shud

omar-khayyam-1

That is, “It is finished.”

The final “Rubá’í of the Day” went up this past Sunday.  However, I’ve been working behind the scenes to get the index updated.  I completed this just a few minutes ago, and I therefore direct you to the index for the “Rubá’í of the Day” series.  From there you can find all seventy-five verses of Edward Fitzgerald’s translation of the Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám, and all five hundred of E. H. Whinfield’s version.

The “Rubá’í of the Day” series has been a labor of love for me, and I have greatly enjoyed posting it.  I hope you find it interesting and worthwhile, too; and if you have a taste for daily poetry, check out my ongoing “Daily Whitman” series, in which I’m publishing Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass in daily increments.  Farewell to Omar, greetings to Walt, and may you enjoy both!

Rubá’í of the Day

XIV.
The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon
Turns Ashes—or it prospers; and anon,
Like Snow upon the Desert’s dusty Face
Lighting a little Hour or two—is gone.