Few Things Are as Delightful…

Few things are as delightful as planning and foreseeing, in this act, everything happening as foreseen. And then allow oneself to sail on the placid waters of optimism, rejoicing in advance because the planning will go well. What a satisfaction! The best thing is to always be able to do it, and always enjoy this expansive and invigorating feeling that only innocence is capable of delivering.

Literature Does Not Need Readers

Literature, contrary to what it may seem, does not need readers in order for it to survive. In fact, it does not need any readers, ever—a handful of true artists is enough. As long as there is someone, like Pessoa, who sees in Antero a brother in spirit, literature will endure. And it does not matter that humanity does not know these men, that the overwhelming majority will never hear a word about them: all it takes is for one of them to be born, and fulfill the mission of putting another link in the chain.

The Intelligence That Is Manifested by the Style

It is curious how translations, no matter how faithful they are to the meaning of the text, no matter how grammatically correct, almost always fail to transmit the style, or rather the intelligence that is manifested by the style of an author. There is something almost always untranslatable from one language to another, which is the creative organization of the sentences that exploits not only the syntax, but also the particular semantics of the language being spoken in. Thus, the translation most often sounds strange when the translator prudently chooses to convey the meaning to the detriment of the translated author’s style. To do otherwise, one must allow oneself a freedom that will be in trouble to free itself from falsification.

Alcohol and Art

Although I have already joked, in a poem dedicated to Augusto dos Anjos, that I supposedly made verses next to a glass of wine, such a possibility is absolutely unthinkable to me, and I cannot even conceive of a possible stimulus coming from alcohol that facilitates creative work, especially when it comes to poetry. To write verse, it is necessary to gather not only all the lucidity available, but also a lot of energy, good disposition and silence, so that it is possible to concentrate the spirit entirely on the creation. Even in prose, which sometimes seems like a labor of strength, alcohol would only be a hindrance after the first few lines, when it is necessary to sustain concentration and move forward as if pushing the very heavy words forward. From alcohol, one can only extract a certain euphoria and an illusion that the idea will come out magnificent on paper—just as it sometimes does without it, and then one has to confront reality… I think the comparison with a high-level athlete is a fair one, who although he may like to drink, will never do so in the moments before a serious training session or a competition.