I write a poem and delude myself that I’ve escaped sadness. I merely make it rhythmic, lighter perhaps. I do my best to make it beautiful, bearable, and for that reasonless reason I cry some more. — Adélia Prado, from “A Good Cause,” The Alphabet in the Park: Selected Poems (Wesleyan, 1990) Advertisements
Flight from reality. Farther still: flight from fantasy. Farther than anything: flight from oneself, flight from flight, exile without water or words, the voluntary loss of love and memory, — Carlos Drummond de Andrade, from “Lesser Life,” Multitudinous Heart: Selected Poems, transl. by Richard Zenith (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2015)
A time comes when death doesn’t help. A time comes when life is an order. Just life, without any escapes. — Carlos Drummond de Andrade, “Your Shoulders Hold Up the World,” The Ecco Anthology of International Poetry (translated by Mark Strand)
Every abyss is navigable by little paper boats. — João Guimarães Rosa, Tutaméia (Terceiras Estórias) Nova Fronteira; 8 edition (2009). Originally published January 1st 1976.
What faded wasn’t poetry. – Carlos Drummond de Andrade, from “In Search of Poetry,” Multitudinous Heart: Selected Poems. Translated by Richard Zenith. (Farrar, Straus and Giroux; Bilingual ed. edition June 23, 2015)
I want to write a poem as simple as a glass of water or as a piece of bread abandoned on the table by a child A poem transparent like a window light like a winged ingot of lead and yet heavy like butterflies among city lorries A poem wrought… Continue reading Stefan Baciu
But after much thought, I have come to the conclusion that there is nothing more difficult in this world than to surrender completely. This is one of man’s greatest sorrows. ― Clarice Lispector, Selected Cronicas. (New Directions November 17, 1996)