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My poems are born because they need to be born.They
arise from inconformity. From the desire to surpass
Nothingness. Sentimental emotions rarely inspire my
poetry that almost always arises from a greater problem
- the problem of death, not in the metaphyiscal sense of
all that may happen after the occurrence. What gives
birth to my poetry is the non-acceptance that one day
life will dissolve and, with it, love, dreams and all this
potential that lives within us.
Hilda Hilst 1952
From HILDA HILST: A POÉTICA DA AGONIA E DO GOZO by Edson
Costa Duarte
[www.jornaldepoesia.jor.br/hilda_hilst_poetica_da_agonia.pdf]
Translation by Rosaliene Bacchus

Poems for the Men of Our Time
Poemas aos Homens do Nosso Tempo
(Excerpt)
Hilda Hilst
Translation by Rosaliene Bacchus

Beloved life, my death lingers
What to say to man
What journey to propose? Kings, ministers
And all of you, politicians,
What word besides gold and darkness
Stays in your ears?
Besides your RAPACITY
What do you know
Of the souls of men?
Gold, conquest, profit, deception
And our bones
And the blood of peoples
And the lives of men
Between your teeth.

* * * *

To meet you, Man of my time,
And in the hope you may subdue
The rosette of fire, hatred, and wars,
I will sing to you eternally in the hope of knowing you
one day
And invite the poet and all those lovers of words, and
the others,
Alchemists, to sit with you at your table.
Things will be simple and round, fair. I will sing to you
My own crudeness and earlier unease,
Appearances, the lacerated love of men
My own love is yours
The mystery of the rivers, earth, seed.
I will sing to you the One who made me a poet and
promised me

Compassion and tenderness and peace on Earth
If within you still resides these gifts he gave you.


Excerpt from "Poemas aos Homens do nosso Tempo - IX,"
Poesia: 1959-1979 by Hilda Hilst, Quiron, São Paulo,
Brazil, 1980.
Ode Descontínua para
Flauta e Oboé, de
Ariana para Dionísio
MARIA BETHÂNIA
POEM III by Hilda Hilst
music by Zeca Baleiro
LYRICS IN ENGLISH
Brazilian Poet Hilda Hilst
BRAZILIAN POET
(1930-2004)
HILDA HILST - poet,
playwright, and
novelist - was born in
Jaú, São Paulo in
Southeast Brazil.

While studying law at
the University of São
Paulo (1948-1952),
she began her literary
career with her poetry
collection
Presságio
(
Omen) in 1950.

In 1965, Hilst moved
to Campinas where
she began building
her
Casa do Sol
(House of the Sun) as
her haven for her
literary creation. She
lived there until her
death.

She began publishing
and staging plays in
1967. Then, in 1970,
she shifted to fiction
with the novel
Fluxo-floema
(
Phloem-flow).

Her fiction and poetry
were generally based
on intimacy, insanity,
and, later, the
supernatural.

Writing for almost 50
years, Hilst produced
more than forty titles,
including poetry,
plays, and fiction. She
received several
prestigious Brazilian
literary awards.


OFFICIAL SITE:
INSTITUTO HILDA
HILST
HILDA HILST READS
FOUR POEMS FROM
HER BOOK
-
OF DESIRE -
PUBLISHED IN THE
1990s

NARRATION IN PORTUGUESE
(4:31 MINUTES DURATION)

DOCUMENTARY
LIFE OF HILDA HILST

CÂMARA MUNICIPAL
DE JAHU
DECEMBER 26, 2013

NARRATION IN PORTUGUESE
(DURATION PART ONE
30:49 MINUTES)

Poemas aos Homens do Nosso Tempo
Hilda Hilst

Amada vida, minha morte demora.
Dizer que coisa ao homem,
Propor que viagem? Reis, ministros
E todos vós, políticos,
Que palavra além de ouro e treva
Fica em vossos ouvidos?
Além de vossa RAPACIDADE
O que sabeis
Da alma dos homens?
Ouro, conquista, lucro, logro
E os nossos ossos
E o sangue das gentes
E a vida dos homens
Entre os vossos dentes.

***

Ao teu encontro, Homem do meu tempo,
E à espera de que tu prevaleças
À rosácea de fogo, ao ódio, às guerras,
Te cantarei infinitamente à espera de que um dia te conheças
E convides o poeta e a todos esses amantes da palavra, e os
outros,
Alquimistas, a se sentarem contigo à tua mesa.
As coisas serão simples e redondas, justas. Te cantarei
Minha própria rudeza e o difícil de antes,
Aparências, o amor dilacerado dos homens
Meu próprio amor que é o teu
O mistério dos rios, da terra, da semente.
Te cantarei Aquele que me fez poeta e que me prometeu

Compaixão e ternura e paz na Terra
Se ainda encontrasse em ti, o que te deu.