Does anybody else envy Fernando Pessoa?
>lived a calm, comfy life in the city he loved
>worked part-time in a neat little job
>published whenever he liked under any name he liked
>very few photographs exist, but all highly aesthetic
>writing is calm, truthful, sensitive and without pretence
>loved by an entire nation and an international fanclub ever since his death
I don't think a writer like him could ever 'make it' in the age of the internet.
i'm gonna fuck your hairless boi pussi
He died virgin.
>>lived a calm, comfy life in the city he loved
And melancholic as hell.
his writings are literally poetic r9k posts
this guy was a pathetic virgin whose living was agony
Didn't he die from liver cirrosis from severe alcoholism?
>>loved by an entire nation and an international fanclub ever since his death
What's so great about being read after one is dead?
Valeu a pena? Tudo vale a pena
Se a alma não é pequena.
>implying all those things were not his way to deal with his immense misery
>implying the melancholic doesnt come to terms with his own way of being and ends up exalting and loving every minute of what once was the reaaon of his sorrows
I'm not implying that, I'm saying it.
He doesn't.
Died a virgin. So, no.
What's your point? Ever have sex? It's only good while it lasts, and when it lasts long it's not good.
>>published whenever he liked under any name he liked
most likely mentally ill split personality
>come to terms with his own way of being
>implying it is not a transcendence of it
>ignoring that all the shit op says is not to have positive value but merely be seen in its irrelevance just like what caused pain before
>implying getting over sorrow as anything to do with joy
>I don't think a writer like him could ever 'make it' in the age of the internet.
How can you be so sure about that?
too pure for this world
He spent his entire life in Portugal.
It must be depressing living in a once great now shoddy country.
Just look at the bongs.
Post your favorite verses
Vem sentar-te comigo, Lídia, à beira do rio.
>Do not like his poetry, must be said that I do not know it so well.
Wtf, he's know as a poet, as the greatest portuguese language one since Camões.
If you don't like his poetry what do you like about him? Because he obviously is not a romancist, don't come with this shit
and much less a short story writer.
When I say I don't like his poetry, I'm talking about his work in general- what I've read of it; a few lyric poems. Also, have you read Camões? He's a great writer, sure. But portuguese literature is so lacking in terms of Poets that minor poets of the English language would be consideredone of our best. To be considered the second best after Camões is not such a great compliment, in my view.
What about Drummond and João Cabral de Melo Neto tell me what MINOR poets of the english language are better than them?
Im not familiar with these poets; I'm not big on modernists. Could you, please, user, post the title of what you would consider their best lyric poems?
>died a virgin.
>implying that’s a detriment in all cases
I'm pretty sure you're Portuguese if you haven't heard of them, so try to keep an open mind towards them. João Cabral's masterpieces are Morte & Vida Severina and Cão Sem Plumas. I don't know much about Drummond, but I can recommend you some Augusto dos Anjos. Check out Cismas do Destino, Versos Íntimos and O Morcego are pretty good. He only published one book: Eu. I find myself reading a lot of it just for kicks and I'm rarely ever let down.
>João Cabral's masterpieces are Morte & Vida Severina and Cão Sem Plumas.
Don't you mean Morte & Vida Severina and Uma Faca Só Lâmina?
bump
Fucking this, holy shit, I never in my wildest dreams could have guessed how much I would learn to be so happy through melancholy. I now understand how Cioran could say "I like life."
>ends up exalting and loving every minute of what once was the reaaon of his sorrows
nice fairytales do you tell
Camões usually bores me, but this is beautiful:
Alma minha gentil, que te partiste
Tão cedo desta vida, descontente,
Repousa lá no Céu eternamente
E viva eu cá na terra sempre triste.
Se lá no assento etéreo, onde subiste,
Memória desta vida se consente,
Não te esqueças daquele amor ardente
Que já nos olhos meus tão puro viste.
E se vires que pode merecer-te
Alguma cousa a dor que me ficou
Da mágoa, sem remédio, de perder-te,
Roga a Deus, que teus anos encurtou,
Que tão cedo de cá me leve a ver-te,
Quão cedo de meus olhos te levou.
Foreigners seem to mostly care about the Book of Disquiet for whatever reason.
Because Pessoa was like Lovecraft in that he didn't put much effort into marketing himself or anything. He simply wrote and published a few little things here and there, mostly later in life.
>his writings are literally poetic r9k posts
aahhahahah kinda true