English poet George Gordon Byron, 6th Baron Byron, was born on 22 January 1788, into a family of fast-decaying nobility.
He died in Missolonghi, in Greece, on 19 April 1824, at the age of 36, from a relapsing fever (possibly malaria) as well as the poor medical practices of the time.
Lord Byron wrote the poem “On this Day I Complete my Thirty-Sixth Year” in his journal three weeks after he had arrived in Greece and taken command of his ‘army of liberation’ during the Greek War of Independence against the Ottoman Empire. It was the final entry.
The subtitle at the beginning of the text notes that the poem was written on the 22nd of January (1824) in Missolonghi.
The poem is made up of ten quatrains and has a contemplative and solemn tone: Byron seems to renounce the youthful joys of love, choosing self-sacrifice over self-indulgence.
Here is the second stanza:
My days are in the yellow leaf;
The flowers and fruits of Love are gone;
The worm—the canker, and the grief
Are mine alone! (1)
Even though he is only 36 the poet does not see himself as having much time left and reveals that there is only grief in his life just like there are worms and fungi in a dying tree.
The reference to Autumn, representing the approach of winter and the end of the year, is also a reference to Shakespeare’s “Macbeth” (Act 5, Sc 3):
I have lived long enough. My way of life
Is fall’n into the sere, the yellow leaf,
And that which should accompany old age,
As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends,
I must not look to have, but, in their stead,
Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honor, breath
Which the poor heart would fain deny and dare not. (2)
(1) Lord Byron
I miei giorni hanno il colore della gialla foglia
i fiori e i frutti dell’Amore sono andati
solo il verme – il cancro e la doglia
son con me restati.
(2) Shakespeare
Ho vissuto abbastanza. Il cammino della mia vita
è giunto al punto in cui la foglia diventa gialla e appassita
e ciò che dovrebbe accompagnare la vecchiaia,
come rispetto, affetto, obbedienza, amicizia,
io non devo più cercare, al loro posto
ricevo maledizioni, lanciate sottovoce ma profonde,
onore tributato solo a voce, e parole
che i cuori meschini, pur volendo, ma non osano negare. (Shakespeare)
(L.Z.)
Love the research you have put into this. I am also in the yellow leaf of life. That phrase speaks to me and this is the first time I remember hearing it althought I have seen and read MacBeth.
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I am also in the autumn of my life, dear Pat, and I would like to be able to slow down the time that flies by! 🍁🍂🍁
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You and me both. How did we get so old so soon?
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I don’t know how to explain that too! At one point, time began to fly away and I began to lose track of my years😘😘😘
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🥰 you are awesome
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Thank you 🙏😘🙏
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Another great post reminding us that there is so much to appreciate out there!! Byron’s life makes for a fascinating tale too.
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You’re right, his life was all an adventure.
Thank you for your precious feedback
🧡🌺🧡🌺🧡
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You are so very welcome! You selected a great quotation!! Yes, it was certainly a life well lived; almost the archetype of the Romantics 😉
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🙏😊🙏😊🙏😊🙏
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Intéressant.
Grazie Luisa.
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Merci, Jean-Louis
Un gros bisou 😘😘😘
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Thank you for this poem I can ” feel’ it
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It’s a very intense poem and that was his last birthday ❣❣❣
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Grazie per queste storie! Il giovane Poeta viveva in un tempo più difficile del nostro – anche se viviamo un supermomentaccio anche noi – ma, quello che è più triste è sentirgli dire che “ormai i fiori e i frutti dell’amore sono andati…”
Forse era per la malattia, ma forse è quell’ ‘ormai’ che a soli trentasei anni lo fa morire.
Ogni vita è irripetibile, di lui ci rimangono le poesie, di altri mille ricordi o, a volte, solo qualche sguardo, o carezza d’amore, indimenticabile…
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Grazie per questo meraviglioso commento, che suona così poetico, per un uomo che è diventato un eroe nell’immaginario di molti
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Today I have completed my…68th year of my present Life, and have begun my 69th one. In other words, today is my birthday.
(I was once laying on a green grass field fantastic plans in my head about my future (now past). But the Age suddenly spreads away what I believed I could be, and te I am not).
In brakets, words from a Guccini’s Song now I have translate, in which I recognize myself: the difference, between my past dreams and present reality. Ciao
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Today? Happy Birthday… and mine is tomorrow, when I will be 71🙀😱
I still hadn’t gotten used to being seventy that I already have to reset everything.
Given my age, I really think I’ll forget to update😸
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Tomorrow, your birthday? Ah, I will surely remember . Eh, “si se podiera detener el tiempo y nunca envejecer, seria facil…” , from a song by Jose’ Feliciano, “Seria facil”. we must accept the enhancing of age. Ciao 🙂
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🌹🌼🌹
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🥂🎁🎉🎊🧨💜💜💜 Happy Birthday, again!!!🥂🎁🎉🎊🧨💜💜💜
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Translate. Tranlated. Cell’s writing system has Also transformed for twice “past” into “pasta” , but I realized this before Sebring comment. About “tranlate” , I did’t 🙂
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Don’t worry!!!😊😘
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Ecco, ecco, ancora. Sebring. Sending…
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😉😊🤗🌹
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Another awesome post 😊
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I’m really glad to know that you liked it!
Thank you very much (●’◡’●)
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🥰
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Hi Luisa, this comment is for wishing you a Happy Birthday. The real “new year’s day” is birthday. May you stay alive and healtly and joyful for many more years more than a century of life. Ciao 🙂
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I thank you ifor your ovely wishes. This morning I got up a little sad for this birthday, but then, reading all the good wishes that arrived, I became a bit happier ❤✨❤
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“I became a bit happier ❤✨❤” Ah, I am a little happier too, by reading what I have just copied and pasted. That proves that the wishes that one gives are useful 🙂
Good night, ciao 🙂
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Buon pomeriggio!!!
(❁´◡`❁)
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Excellent research on Lord Byron! This post is so fascinating and informative!
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So glad you liked it!
Thank you for your kind comment
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