Machado de Assis is an internationally prestigious writer and recognized as one of the most important authors of the Portuguese language. His work has already been translated into several languages and is certainly among the classics of Universal Literature. In Brazil, he is considered the greatest expression of our Literature, and his work, more than a hundred years after his death, remains relevant and an indispensable requirement for those who want to know a little more about our production. literary.
Unparalleled prose writer, writer of fine and delicious ironies — perhaps the most interesting feature of his speech —, Machado de Assis also wrote verses. Although Machado de Assis' poetry is less known, the books are his Chrysalis, from 1864, Phales, from 1870, American, from 1875, and complete poems, 1901. The truth is that his short stories, chronicles, novels and theatrical production are still widespread today, while his poetic production still needs to be discovered, revisited and appreciated. Exploring the lesser-known facet of the Wizard of Cosme Velho, Brasil Escola brings
five poems by Machado de Assis for you to know and admire. Good reading!
Machado and Carolina were married for thirty-five years. On the occasion of his wife's death, the writer wrote the poem Carolina
Carolina
Dear! At the foot of the last bed,
where do you rest from this long life,
here I come and come, poor dear,
bring you the heart of a companion.
That true affection pulses
that, despite all the human reads,
made our existence desirable
and in a corner he put a whole world...
I bring you flowers, - ripped scraps
from the land that saw us pass united
and now dead leave us and separated;
that I, if I have, in the evil eyes,
formulated life thoughts,
they are thoughts gone and lived.
ERROR
Error is yours. I loved you one day
With this passing love
that is born in fantasy
And it doesn't reach the heart;
It wasn't love, it was just
A slight impression;
An indifferent wanting,
In your presence, alive,
Dead, if you were absent,
Do not stop now... There's more after the advertising ;)
And if you see me elusive,
If, as before, you don't see
my poet incense
I'll burn at your feet,
It's just that — as the work of a day,
You passed this fantasy on to me.
For me to love you you should
Another being and not how you were.
Your frivolous chimeras,
Your vain love of yourself,
this icy pendulum
What you called heart,
They were very weak links
for the enamored soul
Get me arrested;
Tries were unsuccessful,
The bad luck came against you,
And although little, you lost
the glory of dragging me
To your car... Vain chimeras!
For me to love you you should
Another being and not as you were...
(Chrysalis - 1864)
BOOKS AND FLOWERS
Your eyes are my books.
What better book is there,
in what better to read
The love page?
Flowers are to me your lips.
Where there is the most beautiful flower,
where best to drink
The balm of love?
(Falenas - 1870)
Machado de Assis, highlighted, among a group of intellectuals, politicians and writers. Photograph from the National Library collection
Epitaph OF MEXICO
Bend your knee: — it's a grave.
shrouded underneath
lies the tepid corpse
Of an annihilated people;
The melancholy prayer Prays him around the cross.
before the astonished universe
The strange game has opened,
The fervent fight was fought
Of strength and justice;
Against justice, oh century,
He defeated the sword and the shell.
Indomitable strength has conquered;
But the unfortunate loser
The hurt, the pain, the hate,
on the debased face
he spat at her. And the eternal blemish
Your laurels will wither.
And when the fateful voice
of holy freedom
come on prosperous days
cry out to humanity,
So I revive Mexico
From the grave will appear.
(Chrysalis - 1864)
the worm
There is a flower that closes
Heavenly dew and perfume.
Planted it in fertile land
Beneficial hand of a nume.
A disgusting and ugly worm,
Generated in deadly slime,
Search this virgin flower
And go to sleep on her breast.
Bite, bleed, tear and mine,
It sucks your life and breath;
The flower the chalice tilts;
The leaves, the wind takes them.
Afterwards, there's no perfume left
In the air of solitude...
This flower is the heart,
That worm the jealousy.
(Falenas - 1870)
By Luana Castro
Graduated in Letters
