A complete work that includes poetry, fictional production in prose and a short diary.
I speak of thee to the Stones of the Road
I speak of thee to the stones of the allies,
And the sun is blond like your look,
I speak to the river, which unfolds the spark,
Dresses as princesses and fairies;
I speak to the seagulls with unfolded wings,
Remembering white handkerchiefs wavings,
And the poles that stab the moonlight
In the solitude of the starry night;
I say the aspirations, dreams, desires
Where your soul, dizzy with victory
Rises to heaven a tower of my kisses!
And my cries of love, across the room,
Over the brocades of shining glory,
Are stars that tumble in my bosom!
I discovered the poetry of Florbela Espanca when I was very young. I had no more than 15 years of age and since that moment I was erred by her words. What most impressed me was her deep sorrow. It is possible to discern between the lines of her writing, without needing to resort to any kind of biography, her permanent latent unhappiness. Her insatiability for something that is so hard to achieve, absolute love. Redeemer. Eternal against the erosion of time. In her complete works, which includes some texts she wrote in prose, and I recently went back to reread, I came to feel again a great anguish and grief before the tragic outcome of her stories. It's almost like living in a permanent state of unhappiness. However, I am convinced that Florbela Espanca could never have written some of the best poems of the Portuguese language, during her short existence if she hadn't lived so hungry, restless and so torn by the reality, that in the limit stole a certain peace of mind of her life. In the end, we must truly suffer to master the emotions of the sublime. Happy reading!
