It is impossible to talk about Brazilian literature without mentioning the name of Cecília Meireles, the main female voice of 20th century poetry.
In an environment dominated by men, the poet showed, back in the 1930s, that women also produced literature from quality, and that writing well was not a male privilege, a vision perpetuated in a sexist society (whose echoes reverberate within today).
Unfortunately, many poets (there are controversies about the term “poetses”) have been silenced throughout history because of gender issues, an injustice that needs to be finally undone.
To show you the beauty of poetry that mixed symbolist and modernist elements, the Escola Educação website selected ten poems by Cecília Meireles that will certainly leave you wanting to know more about the work of the writer who is one of the greatest exponents of our lyrics.
Poems by Cecília Meireles
The poet, who died in 1964, aged 63, still arouses the interest of readers and critics, who are unanimous in terms of the excellence of her poetry. Enjoy Cecilia's unparalleled verses and enjoy reading!
Song
In the imbalance of the seas,
the bows rotate by themselves...
In one of the ships that sank
is that you certainly came.
I've waited for you all the centuries
without despair and without heartbreak,
and died of infinite deaths
always keeping the same face
when the waves carried you
my eyes, between water and sand,
blinded like those of the statues,
to everything that exists outside.
my hands stopped in the air
and hardened by the wind,
and lost the color they had
and the memory of the movement.
And the smile I brought you
it came off and fell from me:
and just maybe he still lives
within these endless waters.
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4th. rose motif
Do not worry about the petal that flies:
it is also to be, to stop being like that.
Roses will see, only ruffled ash,
dead, intact throughout your garden.
I scent even my thorns
in the distance, the wind is talking about me.
And because of losing me, they remind me,
it's by defoliating myself that I have no end.
Reason
I sing because the moment exists
and my life is complete.
I'm not happy nor am I sad:
I'm a poet.
Brother of elusive things,
I don't feel joy or torment.
I go through nights and days
in the wind.
If it collapses or builds up,
if I remain or if I fall apart,
- I do not know I do not know. I don't know if I stay
or step.
I know what I sing. And the song is everything.
The rhythmic wing has eternal blood.
And one day I know I'll be mute:
- nothing more.
shyness
Just a little gesture for me,
done from afar and lightly,
for you to come with me
and I will take you forever...
— but only this one I won't do.
a fallen word
from the mountains of the instants
breaks all the seas
and unites the most distant lands…
— a word I won't say.
So you can guess me,
among the taciturn winds,
erase my thoughts,
I put on night dresses,
— which I bitterly invented.
And while you don't find me,
the worlds go sailing
in the right air of time,
you don't even know when…
— and one day I will be finished.
night
Who dares to ask, in the immense night?
And what are the trees, the houses, the rain, the little passerby worth?
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What is the value of human thinking,
hardworking and defeated,
in the turmoil of the hours?
Worth the conversation just whispered,
the erm tenderness, the delicate goodbyes?
What are the eyelids of timid hope worth,
dews of trembling salt?
The blood and tear are subtle little crystals,
in the deep diagram.
And man so uselessly thinking and thinking
it only has the sadness to distinguish it.
Because there were
sleeping animals, with the same human mystery:
big as porches, smooth as velvet,
but without historical memories,
no commitments to live.
Large animals with no past, no background,
pure and limpid,
just with the weight of work on its mighty flanks
and notions of water and spring in the calm nostrils
and in the long silk of unfurled manes.
But the night melted in the east,
full of yellow and red flowers.
And the horses rose, among a thousand wavering dreams,
raised their vigorous head in the air,
and began to pull the immense wheels of the day.
Ah! the awakening of animals in the vast countryside!
This coming out of sleep, this going on in life!
The path that goes from the ethereal pastures of the night
to the clear day of human vassalage!
It is necessary not to forget anything
It is necessary not to forget anything:
neither the faucet open nor the fire lit,
not even the smile for the unhappy
nor the prayer of every moment.
Don't forget to see the new butterfly
nor the usual sky.
What is needed is to forget our face,
our name, the sound of our voice, the rhythm of our pulse.
What must be forgotten is the day loaded with acts,
the idea of reward and glory.
What is needed is to be as if we weren't already,
watched by their own eyes
severe with us, for the rest does not belong to us.
Serenade
Allow me to close my eyes,
for it is so far and so late!
I thought it was just a delay,
and singing I began to wait for you.
Let me now mute:
that I settle for being alone.
There's a sweet light in the silence,
and the pain is of divine origin.
allow me to turn my face
to a sky bigger than this world,
and learn to be docile in the dream
like the stars on your way.
Adverse Moon
I have phases, like the moon,
Hidden walking phases,
phases of coming to the street…
Loss of my life!
Damnation of my life!
I have phases of being yours,
I have others to be alone.
Phases that come and go,
in the secret calendar
that an arbitrary astrologer
invented for my use.
And the melancholy runs
your endless spindle!
I don't meet anyone
(I have phases, like the moon…).
on someone's day
it's not the day for me to be yours…
And when that day comes,
the other disappeared...
you have a fear
you have a fear
To finish.
You don't see that you're done with the whole day
That you die in love.
In sadness.
In doubt.
In desire.
That you renew yourself every day.
In love.
in sadness
In doubt.
In desire.
That you are always someone else.
That you are always the same.
That you will die for immense ages.
Until you're not afraid to die.
And then you will be eternal.
Don't love as men do.
Don't love with love.
Love without love.
Love without meaning to.
Love without feeling.
Love as if you were another.
As if you were going to love.
Without waiting.
So separate from what you love, in you,
don't worry
If love leads to happiness,
if it leads to death,
If it takes you to some destination.
If he takes you.
And if he goes, himself...
don't make yourself
A dream to be fulfilled.
Go.
No path marked.
You are the one of all ways.
Just be a presence.
Invisible silent presence.
All things wait for the light,
Without saying that they expect it.
Without knowing it exists.
All things will wait for you,
Without talking to you.
Without talking to them.
be what renounces
Highly:
No sadness from your resignation!
No pride in your resignation!
Open your hands to infinity.
And don't let it stay with you
Not that last gesture!
what you saw bitter,
Painful,
Difficult,
what you saw useless
That's what your eyes saw
Humans,
Forgotten...
Deceived...
At the time of your resignation
extends over life
Your eyes
And you will see what you see:
But you'll see better…
… And everything that was ephemeral
fell apart.
And you were left alone, who is eternal.
farewell
For me, and for you, and for more that
which is where other things never are,
I leave the sea rough and the sky calm:
I want solitude.
My way is without marks neither landscapes.
And how do you know him? – they will ask me.
– Because I don't have words, because I don't have pictures.
No enemy and no brother.
What are you searching for? - Everything. What do you want? - Nothing.
I travel alone with my heart.
I'm not lost, but misfound.
I take my way on my hand.
The memory flew from my forehead.
My love, my imagination flew away...
Maybe I'll die before the horizon.
Memory, love and the rest where will they be?
I leave my body here, between the sun and the earth.
(I kiss you, my body, all disappointment!
Sad banner of a strange war…)
I want solitude.
Luana Alves
Graduated in Letters
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