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I believe that poetry has been a vocation, although it
wasn’t a vocation developed consciously or
intentionally. My motivation was this: to try to solve,
through verses, internal existential problems. They are
problems of anguish, incomprehension and
maladaptation to the world.

I don’t regret, in my intellectual career, anything I have
failed to do. I didn’t do much. I didn’t do anything
organized. I didn’t have a project of literary life. Things
were happening according to inspiration and chance.
There was no schedule. Without any literary ambition, I
was more a poet for the desire and need to express
sensations and emotions that disturbed my spirit and
caused me anguish. I made my poetry an analyst's
couch. This is my definition of my poetic work. I had no
pretension of winning prizes or distinguishing myself
through poetry or comparing myself with my fellow
poets. On the contrary. I’ve always greatly admired the
poets who were attuned with me. But I’ve never been
tempted to include myself among them as one of the
famous. I have nothing to regret. I also have nothing to
brag about. In no way. My poetry is full of imperfections.
If I were critical, I would point out many flaws. I won’t
do so. I leave it to others. My work is public.
CARLOS DRUMMOND DE ANDRADE, FROM 1987 INTERVIEW WITH
GENETON MORAES 17 DAYS BEFORE HIS DEATH.

TRANSLATION BY ROSALIENE BACCHUS.

International Congress of Fear
Congresso Internacional do Medo
Carlos Drummond de Andrade
Translation by Rosaliene Bacchus

Provisionally we will not sing the love,

that took refuge far below the underground.

We will sing the fear, that sterilizes hugs,

we will not sing the hate, because this doesn’t exist,

there is only fear, our father and our companion,

the great fear of the heartlands, seas, deserts,

fear of soldiers, fear of mothers, fear of churches,

we will sing the fear of dictators, fear of democrats,

we will sing the fear of death and fear of the hereafter.

Afterward we will die of fear

and over our graves will sprout yellow and fearful flowers.
BRAZILIAN POET
(1902-1987)
CARLOS DRUMMOND DE
ANDRADE - poet,
journalist, and literary
critic - was born in
Itabira, in the Southeast
Brazil state of Minas
Gerais.

Occupying a prominent
place in Brazilian
literature, Drummond is
considered one of the
most influential poets of
the twentieth century. He
has left an extensive
body of work of
intellectual relevance and
human value.

Drummond began his
writing career in 1921 as
a columnist for the
Diário
de Minas
newspaper. After
receiving his degree in
pharmacy (1925) - a
profession he never
practiced - he
co-founded the literary
journal,
A Revista (The
Review) and became
involved in the Brazilian
Modernist movement.

In 1930, he published
his first poetry collection,
Alguma Poesia (Some
Poetry).

After entering the public
service in 1934, he was
transferred to Rio de
Janeiro where he worked
in the Ministry of
Education & Public Health
until 1945. He then
worked at the National
Historical and Artistic
Heritage Service of Brazil
until his retirement in
1962.

During his lifetime,
Drummond published
over thirty collections of
poetry and more than a
half dozen collections of
his
crônicas (short critical
literary essays).

His ironic treatment of
realistic themes reflect
his concern with the
plight of modern man
and the Brazilian's
struggle for freedom and
dignity.

Drummond died in Rio
de Janeiro on August 17,
1987, ten days after the
death of his only
daughter.
CARLOS DRUMMOND
DE ANDRADE
PROGRAM
DE LÁ PRA CÁ
TV BRASIL
PUBLISHED
AUGUST 6, 2012

NARRATION IN PORTUGUESE
(25:49 MINUTES DURATION)

Congresso Internacional do Medo
Carlos Drummond de Andrade

Provisoriamente não cantaremos o amor,

que se refugiou mais abaixo dos subterrâneos.

Cantaremos o medo, que esteriliza os abraços,

não cantaremos o ódio, porque este não existe,

existe apenas o medo, nosso pai e nosso companheiro,

o medo grande dos sertões, dos mares, dos desertos,

o medo dos soldados, o medo das mães, o medo das
igrejas,

cantaremos o medo dos ditadores, o medo dos
democratas,

cantaremos o medo da morte e o medo de depois da
morte.

Depois morreremos de medo

e sobre nossos túmulos nascerão flores amarelas e
medrosas


Carlos Drummond de Andrade, Antologia Poética, 12th
Edition, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 1978.
SOURCE:
Revista Bula