Multitudinous Heart: Selected Poems: A Bilingual Edition (Portuguese Edition)
The so much vital poems of Brazil's maximum poet
Brazil, in keeping with no much less an observer than Elizabeth Bishop, is a spot the place poets carry a spot of honor. "Among males, the identify of ‘poet' is typically used as a praise or time period of love, whether the individual noted is . . . no longer a poet in any respect. the most recognized twentieth-century poets, Manuel Bandeira, used to be awarded with an everlasting automobile parking space in entrance of his condo condo in Rio de Janeiro, with an enamelled signal POETA―although he by no means owned a automobile and did not know the way to drive." In a tradition like this, it really is tough to underestimate the significance of the nation's maximum poet, Carlos Drummond de Andrade.
Drummond, the main emblematic Brazilian poet, used to be a grasp of reworking the normal global, via language, into the elegant. His poems―musical protests, twisted hymns, dissonant celebrations of imperfection―are transcriptions of lifestyles itself recorded through a magnanimous outcast. As he positioned it in his "Seven-Sided Poem": "When i used to be born, a kind of twisted / angels who stay within the shadows stated: / ‘Carlos, prepare to be a misfit in life!' . . . global so broad, international so huge, / my heart's even larger."
Multitudinous Heart, the main beneficiant collection of Drummond's poems on hand in English, gathers paintings from many of the stages of this stressed, extraordinary modernist. Richard Zenith's choice and translation brings us a extra shiny and outstanding poet than we knew.
I’m jam-packed with soft phrases, i do know animal sounds, i do know the wildest kisses, I’ve traveled, fought, and realized. I’m surrounded by way of eyes, by means of palms, affections, yearnings. but when i attempt to succeed in out, there’s not anything yet evening and a frightful solitude. partners, pay attention me! That agitated presence attempting to holiday during the evening isn’t simply the moth. It’s the softly panting mystery of a guy. O BOI Ó solidão do boi no campo, ó solidão do homem na rua! Entre carros, trens, telefones,.
Later paintings exhibits that he did sit back. yet what concerning the idea of poetry as self-expression and mental self-analysis? it's a proposal now not unavoidably in clash with the assumption of poetry as a creative pursuit. For a guy like Drummond, obviously taciturn, artwork was once might be the fitting medium for exploring and expressing his emotions. these emotions weren't easily expressed, although; they have been reworked. there has been a metamorphic courting among his lifestyles and his artwork. The abundance of.
If I lower myself on all of them and if them all have been stained by way of a hazy blood issued on the whim of the thorns, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. the realm, my love, isn’t worthy our difficulty, neither is an untroubled face worthy greater than a pained one. I discovered some time past to snicker, at what? At me? At not anything? the area, worthy not anything, isn’t legitimate. just like the shadow within the valley, existence descends … and if a few sound rises out of that intensity, it’s no longer the shepherd’s shout rounding up his sheep. It’s.
This stingy evening. yet i do know that for a long time we’ve been crying convinced! to the everlasting. POEMA PATÉTICO Que barulho é esse na escada? É o amor que está acabando, é o homem que fechou a porta e se enforcou na cortina. Que barulho é esse na escada? É Guiomar que tapou os olhos e se assoou com estrondo. É a lua imóvel sobre os pratos e os metais que brilham na copa. Que barulho é esse na escada? É a torneira pingando água, é o lamento imperceptível de alguém que perdeu no jogo enquanto a.
Beija, depois de amanhã é domingo e segunda-feira ninguém sabe o que será. Inútil você resistir ou mesmo suicidar-se. Não se mate, oh não se mate, reserve-se todo para as bodas que ninguém sabe quando virão, se é que virão. O amor, Carlos, você telúrico, a noite passou em você, e os recalques se sublimando, lá dentro um barulho inefável, rezas, vitrolas, santos que se persignam, anúncios do melhor sabão, barulho que ninguém sabe de quê, praquê. Entretanto você caminha.