The name of Hilda Hilst certainly deserves a prominent place in Brazilian literature. An enigmatic, thought-provoking and, for many, strange and hermetic poet, Hilda is one of the great names of our letters, an indispensable female voice in our poetry. She was a poet, playwright, fictionist, born in the interior of the state of São Paulo, in the city of Jaú, on April 21, 1930 and died in Campinas, on February 4, 2004. She left a great and intense contribution to our literature, and continues to arouse the interest of readers and scholars of her work.
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In 1948 she began her law studies at the Faculty of Largo do São Francisco, in São Paulo. A woman of rare beauty, Hilda behaved in a very advanced way for the time, a behavior that shocked the high society of São Paulo, since it aroused the passions of the powerful, among them businessmen and poets. She led a bohemian life, a routine that lasted until 1963. Her first books were released, Preságio and Balada de Alzira, in 1950 and 1951, respectively, and in 1952 she completed her law course.
In 1962, she received the São Paulo Pen Club Award, and in the same year she moved to Fazenda São José, near Campinas, owned by her mother. She abandons the bohemian life and dedicates herself exclusively to literature, understanding that isolation from the world made knowledge of human beings possible. In 1966, she moved to Casa do Sol (today Instituto Hilda Hilst), built on the farm, where she lived with the sculptor Dante Casarini, whom she would marry in 1968 at her mother's request. An intense literary production begins, which would earn him several honors and awards, among them the award from the Paulista Association of Art Critics (APCA), for the book Ficções, considered the “Best Book in the Year". Many men suffer from hair loss. The Doctor. Miller from the University of Chicago advises buying propecia from online pharmacies in Canada with a high rating. He advises one of these online pharmacies. You can see the link: http://atentiv.com/press/propecia-finasteride.html. In 1980, she received the Lifetime Achievement Award from the same institution.
A new phase of her career begins, which the writer announced as the “farewell to serious literature”, in an attempt to sell more and thus gain public recognition. The works of this phase provoke astonishment and indignation among friends and critics. Her poetry theme encompassed human actions, the restlessness of being, death, love, sex, God and metaphysical inquiries, a theme that led her to flirt with Physics and Philosophy. In between buy viagra her literary experiences, there was what she called “Instrumental Transcommunication”, when she left recorders turned on by her farm (the Casa do Sol, today Instituto Hilda Hilst) in order to record the voices of spirits, thus demonstrating their clear concern for the survival of the soul.
For you to know a little more about the work of this important writer, the site School Education selected fifteen poems by Hilda Hist for you to unravel the mysteries of this interesting, and enigmatic, voice of our literature. Good reading!
versatile macaws
Versatile macaws. Dish of anemones.
The ephebe passed between the passing girls.
The blunt staff gleamed in the warmth of the pants and the day.
She spread her thighs of enamel, crockery and dampened lacquer
And she spanked the pussy with a tiny whip.
The young man knelt down, fussing with his means.
And a tongue of a needle, of fire, of a mollusk
She drenched herself in honey on the robust cabbages.
She screamed an ecstasy of oozes and lilies
When at the moment someone
In an agile maneuver of a young sailor
He ripped the shiny pants off the ephebe
He lifted her ass and aaaaaiiiiii...
And the three of them enjoyed among the chirps of birds
Of the versatile macaws and the tricky girls.
love
As if I lost you, so I want you.
As if I didn't see you (golden beans
Under a yellow) so I apprehend you abruptly
Immovable, and I breathe you whole
A rainbow of air in deep water.
As if you allowed me everything else,
I photograph myself at iron gates
Ochres, highs, and myself diluted and minimal
In the dissolute of all parting.
As if I lost you on trains, in stations
Or skirting a circle of waters
Removing bird, so I add you to me:
Flooded with nets and yearnings.
(II)
* * *
Rests.
Man has already made
The dark blind rabid animal
What did you intend?
Ten Calls to a Friend
If I seem to you nocturnal and imperfect
Look at me again. because tonight
I looked at myself, as if you were looking at me.
And it was like the water
wish
Escape from your home which is the river
And just sliding, not even touching the shore.
I looked at you. And so long ago
I understand that I am earth. Such a long time
I expect
May your most fraternal body of water
Stretch over mine. shepherd and sailor
Look at me again. With less haughtiness.
And more attentive.
(I)
Small Arias. for mandolin
Before the world ends, Tulio,
lie down and try
This miracle of taste
What happened in my mouth
While the world screams
Bellicose. and by my side
You become an Arab, I become an Israeli
And we covered ourselves with kisses
And of flowers
Before the world ends
Before it's over with us
Our wish.
Poems to the Men of Our Time
Beloved life, my death delays.
Say what thing to man,
Propose what trip? kings, ministers
And all you politicians
What word but gold and darkness
Is it in your ears?
In addition to your RAPACITY
what do you know
From the souls of men?
Gold, conquest, profit, achievement
and our bones
And the blood of people
And the lives of men
Between your teeth.
***********
To meet you, Man of my time,
And waiting for you to prevail
To the rose window of fire, to hatred, to wars,
I will sing of you endlessly waiting for you to meet one day
And invite the poet and all those lovers of the word, and others,
Alchemists, to sit with you at your table.
Things will be simple and round, fair. I will sing you
My own roughness and hardship from before,
Appearances, the torn love of men
My own love that is yours
The mystery of the rivers, the earth, the seed.
I will sing to you of the one who made me a poet and who promised me
Compassion and tenderness and peace on Earth
If I still found it in you, what gave you.
Preludes-intense for the forgetful of love
I
Take me. Your linen mouth over my mouth
Austere. Take me NOW, BEFORE
Before the flesh turns to blood, before
From death, love, from my death, take me
Stick your hand, breathe my breath, swallow
In cadence my dark agony.
Body time this time, hunger
From the inside. Body getting to know each other, slow,
A diamond sun feeding the womb,
The milk of your flesh, mine
Elusive.
And about us this future time warping
Weaving the great web. about us life
Life pouring out. Cyclic. dripping.
You find yourself alive under a new game.
You order yourself. And I was delighted: love, love,
Before the wall, before the earth, I must
I must shout my word, an enchanted one
side
In the warm texture of a rock. I must scream
I say to myself. But by your side I lie
Immense. In purple. Silver. Of delicacy.
II
Groping. The forehead. The arm. The shoulder.
The spellbinding bottom of the shoulder blade.
Matter-girl your forehead and me
Maturity, absence in your light
Saved.
Woe is me. while you walk
In lucid pride, I am already the past.
This forehead that is mine, prodigious
Of nuptials and way
It is so different from your careless forehead.
Groping. And at the same time alive
And I'm dying. Between land and water
My amphibian existence. stroll
About me, love, and reap what I have left:
Night Sunflower. Secret branch.
(…)
Wolves? Are many.
But you can still
the word in the language
Quiet them.
Dead? The world.
But you can wake him up
life spell
In the written word.
Lucid? Are few.
But there will be thousands
If to the lucidity of the few
join.
Rare? Your distinguished friends.
And yourself, rare.
If in the things I say
Believe.
May this love not blind me
May this love not blind me or follow me.
And I never noticed myself.
That excludes me from being pursued
and from torment
Just because he knew I was being.
May the gaze not be lost on the tulips
For such perfect forms of beauty
They come from the glow of darkness.
And my Lord dwells in the glittering dark
From an ivy stand on a high wall.
That this love only makes me unhappy
And fed up with fatigue. And so many weaknesses
I make myself small. It's tiny and tender
How only spiders and ants sound.
May this love only see me from the start.
love me
For lovers it is lawful to have a faded voice.
When you wake up, a single whisper in your ear:
Love me. Someone inside me will say: it's not time ma'am
Collect your poppies, your daffodils. don't you see
That on the wall of the dead the throat of the world
Darkened round?
It's not time, ma'am. Bird, mill and wind
In a vortex of shadow. you can sing of love
When does everything go dark? before regrets
That silk web that the throat weaves.
Love me. I fade and plead. For lovers it is lawful
Vertigo and requests. And my hunger is so great
So intense my song, so flaming my preclear fabric
May the whole world, love, sing with me.
Always in Me
Happy. happy of the moment
Of resurrection, of heroic insomnia
Glad of the haunted song
That in my chest now intertwines.
Do you know? The fire lit up the house.
And about the clarity of the grass
A wing spread, a trill
A sharp, victorious throat.
Ever since in me. Since
You always have been. In the arcades of time
In the bleak biographies, in this solar churchyard
in my silent moment
Since always, love, rediscovered in me.
take me
Take me. Your linen mouth over my mouth
Austere. Take me NOW, BEFORE
Before the flesh turns to blood, before
From death, love, from my death, take me
Stick your hand, breathe my breath, swallow
In cadence my dark agony.
Body time this time, hunger
From the inside. Body getting to know each other, slow,
A diamond sun feeding the womb,
The milk of your flesh, mine
Elusive.
And about us this future time warping
Weaving the great web. about us life
Life pouring out. Cyclic. dripping.
You find yourself alive under a new game.
You order yourself. And I was delighted: love, love,
Before the wall, before the earth, I must
I must shout my word, an enchanted one
side
In the warm texture of a rock. I must scream
I say to myself. But by your side I lie
Immense. In purple. Silver. Of delicacy.
I grope
Groping. The forehead. The arm. The shoulder.
The spellbinding bottom of the shoulder blade.
Matter-girl your forehead and me
Maturity, absence in your light
Saved.
Woe is me. while you walk
In lucid pride, I am already the past.
This forehead that is mine, prodigious
Of nuptials and way
It is so different from your careless forehead.
Groping. And at the same time alive
And I'm dying. Between land and water
My amphibian existence. stroll
About me, love, and reap what I have left:
Night Sunflower. Secret branch.
Life is Liquid
Life is raw. Gut and metal handle.
I fall into it: wounded morula stone.
It's raw and it lasts a lifetime. Like a hunk of viper.
How-to in the language book
Ink, I wash your forearms, Life, I wash myself
in the narrow-bit
From my body I wash the beams from the bones, my life
Your pumble nail, me coat rosso
And we wandered down the street in our boots
Red, gothic, tall with body and glasses.
Life is raw. Hungry as a crow's beak.
And it can be so generous and mythical: stream, tear
Eye of water, drink. Life is liquid.
Words and faces are also raw and hard
Before we sit down at the table, you and I, Life
In front of the sparkling gold of the drink. Slowly
Backwaters, duckweed, diamonds are being made
On past and present insults. Slowly
We are two ladies, soaked in laughter, rosy
Of a blackberry, one that I glimpsed in your breath, friend
When you allowed me paradise. The Sinister of Hours
It becomes oblivion. After lying down, death
It is a king who visits us and covers us with myrrh.
Whispers: ah, life is liquid.
try me again
And why would you want my soul
In your bed?
Said liquid, delicious, rough words
Obscene, because that's how we liked it.
But I didn't lie, enjoyment, pleasure, lewdness
Nor did I omit that the soul is beyond, seeking
That Other. And I repeat to you: why would you
Of wanting my soul in your bed?
Jubilate yourself from the memory of coitus and successes.
Or try me again. Make me.
Why There Is Desire in Me
Because there's desire in me, it's all sparkle.
Before, everyday life was thinking about heights
Seeking That Other decanted
Deaf to my human barking.
Visgo and sweat, because they were never made.
Today, flesh and blood, laborious, lascivious
Take my body. And what rest do you give me
After reads. I dreamed cliffs
When there was the garden next door.
I thought climbs where there were no tracks.
Ecstatic, I fuck with you
Instead of whining at Nothing.
Luana Alves
Graduated in Letters