Multitudinous Heart

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Multitudinous Heart Page 20

by Carlos Drummond de Andrade


  Daddy, buy me the International Library of Famous Literature

  Death of the Milkman

  Declaration in Court

  Destruction

  Disappearance of Luisa Porto

  Domicile

  Don’t Kill Yourself

  Don’t open

  Don’t write poems about what happened

  Elegy

  Elegy 1938

  Empathetic Poem

  Eternal

  Family Portrait

  Feeling of the World

  Field of Flowers

  Flight from reality

  For the time being we won’t sing of love

  Garden

  God gave me a love when, late in the season

  Green Library

  Hand in Hand

  How to Make a Landscape

  I beg pardon for being

  I feel time’s heavy hand weigh down

  I have just two hands

  I kiss the hand of the priest

  I knocked on the doors of lost time. No one answered

  I lived for some years in Itabira

  I missed the streetcar and am missing

  I’m Making a Song

  I’m making a song

  I never saw the sea

  In Search of Poetry

  International Symposium on Fear

  In that small town

  In the desert of Itabira

  In the half-empty café

  In the Middle of the Road

  In the middle of the road there was a stone

  In this city of Rio

  I saw girls shouting

  It happened in Rio

  It’s always in the past, that orgasm

  I used to consider absence a lack

  I’ve earned (I’ve lost) my day

  I want to know the whore

  I wish I could write this

  I won’t be the poet of a decrepit world

  I won’t sing of loves that I don’t have

  João loved Teresa who loved Raimundo

  Journey Through the Family

  Lake

  Lesser Life

  Letter

  Like primitive men who devoutly hold on to the lower jawbone of their dead

  Looking for What

  Love

  Love is a privilege of maturity

  Lovers love each other cruelly

  Make-believe Lullaby

  Maturity, that terrible gift

  May Afternoon

  Meditations on the Word Man

  Middle Age

  Middle age unlearns

  Mother, whose dress is that

  Multitudinous Heart

  My body’s not my body

  My father rode off on his horse to the fields

  My love flickers inside the marrow

  Nakedness

  Nausea and the Flower

  One cold, uncertain hour

  On the road where a god walked

  O solitude of the ox in the field

  Plants also suffer

  Poetry can’t be communicated

  Porcelain

  Purification Poem

  Questions

  Reaching the dangerous curve of my fifties

  Residue

  Roll, World, Roll

  Sadness in Heaven

  Science Fiction

  Secret

  Seven-sided Poem

  Social Notes

  Sonnet of Missing Hope

  Sponge Song

  Square Dance

  Story of the Dress

  Swipe of the Sword

  … The apartment opened

  The Body’s Contradictions

  The country’s short on milk

  The door of truth was open

  The Elephant

  The House of Lost Time

  The Infernal Powers

  The Last Days

  The Machine of the World

  The Minute After

  The Misinformed God

  The more I live, the more I embody this truth: they don’t live except in us

  The Moth

  The Ox

  The poet arrives at the station

  The Priest Walks Down the Street

  There’s also a melancholy hour in heaven

  The shards of life, glued together, form a strange teacup

  The Table

  The Time of Love

  The Ungay Science

  The Voice

  The Whore

  The world’s not worth the world

  They say that Márgara goes out at night

  This family portrait is looking

  This landscape? It doesn’t exist. What exists

  Threesome in a Café

  Truth

  Unity

  Verses on the Brink of Evening

  We’re even, brother, you got your revenge

  What can one creature among other creatures

  What I’m always and anxiously looking for isn’t this or that. It’s

  What noise is that on the stairs

  When I was born, one of those twisted

  With my scant resources

  With only nakedness, its final

  Woman Dressed as a Man

  You Carry the World on Your Shoulders

  You work without joy for a worn-out world

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Carlos Drummond de Andrade (1902–1987) was born in a small town in Minas Gerais. While he spent most of his life working as a government bureaucrat, he regarded poetry as his true vocation, and his first book was published in 1930. During six decades of writing, his work went through many phases, transcending styles and schools while being strongly influenced by modernism. Few critics or serious readers would dispute his status as Brazil’s greatest poet. You can sign up for email updates here.

  Richard Zenith lived in Brazil and France before immigrating to Portugal in 1987. He has translated the poetry of Luís de Camões, Fernando Pessoa, Sophia de Mello Breyner Andresen, and João Cabral de Melo Neto. You can sign up for email updates here.

 

 

 


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