Adriana Lisboa: Biography and Poems | Brazilian Poetry
Biography.
Adriana Lisboa (b.1970) has degrees in music and literature. Among other books, she has published Symphony in White, which won the Jose Saramago Award, and Hanoi, chosen as the book of the year by the Independent, as well as two poetry collections. Her poems and stories have appeared in Modern Poetry in Translation, Granta, Asymptote and The Indian Quarterly.
Silvia Schmidt: Biography and Poems | Brazilian Poetry
Biography.
She was born in São Paulo, but lived in the Northeast and South of Brazil, leaving Florianópolis in 2000 for bolder flights to England and the USA, with the objective of improving the English language, living fantastic experiences. In poetry, her main focus is to work in a multimiditic and contemporary language (concretism) a revolutionary (ontological) psychology search in the lived reality (self-fiction) and in the Cultural exchanges a young and feminine audience, in transcendence.
Isabel Furini: Biography and Poems | Brazilian Poetry
Biography.
Isabel Furini is an Argentine writer, poet and educator. He has lived in Brazil since 1980. He is a columnist for the newspaper Paraná Imprensa. He published 35 books in Brazil, among them: “Os Corvos de Van Gogh” and “,,, e outros silêncios”; he participated in an anthology in Buenos Aires. She is an Ambassador of the Word of the César Egido Serrano Foundation (Spain). His poems were awarded in Brazil, Spain and Portugal.
Adriane Garcia: Biography and Poems | Brazilian Poetry
Biography.
Adriane Garcia (Belo Horizonte, 1973) is a Brazilian poet, writer, theater educator and actress. He graduated in History from the Federal University of Minas Gerais and specialized in Art Education at UEMG. Her first book, "Fables for adults to lose sleep", won the Paraná Prize for Literature in 2013, in the poetry category. In 2017, she was the curator of the Belo Horizonte International Literary Festival.
Bonnie And Clyde
I saw Bonnie and Clyde
Dying
So many times
I started to
Believe
Only on
Bank robberies
As beautiful as Bonnie
And Clyde
Loving each other
Under the bursts
Was dreaming on
Movies
As if you
Robbed me
A hollow
Love is this
Adrenaline
That ends up in one of the
Getaways.
Translated by Samantha Batista
Extinction
The color white reflects the sun
And sends the heat away
From Earth
If Earth warms up
The ice melts
And Earth does warm up
The seaweed that is born under the ice
Feeds the krill
Wihich feeds the whale
If there's no ice
There's no krill
And there's no whale
I know it's obvious
But I already spoke of love
And you didn't even listen.
Translated by Beta Guedes Cummins
Helena Kolody: Biography and Poems | Brazilian Poetry
Biography.
Machine-Man
Man got married to the machineand created a strange hybrid:
in the chest a chronometer
in the skull a generator.
Red corpuscles of its blood
are rounded algorithms.
Statistical cacti grow
in their abstract gardens.
Precision planning,
life of machine-man.
The gears vibrate with
exertion of its realizations.
In its obscure core
is a strange prisoner,
whose screams agitate
the metallic structure;
blazing are the reflections
of an imponderable light
disturbing the coldness
of the armored machine-man.
Translated by Rosaliene Bacchus
Amanda Vital: Biography and Poems | Brazilian Poetry

Biography.
Eli Macuxi: Biography and Poems | Brazilian Poetry
Biography.
Márcia Wayna Kambeba: Biography and Poems | Brazilian Poetry
Biography.
Astrid Cabral: Biography and Poems | Brazilian Poetry
Biography.
Patricia Galvão (Pagu): Biography and Poems | Brazilian Poetry
Biography.
Patrícia Rehder Galvão, known by her pseudonym Pagu (June 9, 1910 – December 12, 1962) was a Brazilian writer, poet, playwright, journalist, and translator who had a large role in the Brazilian Modernist movement. Pagu was also politically active, being associated to the Brazilian Communist Party during the 1930 decade.
Deborah Brennand: Biography and Poems | Brazilian Poetry
Biography.
Deborah Brennand was born in Engenho da Lagoa do Ramo, municipality of Nazaré da Mata, state of Pernambuco. She married Francisco Brennand, one of the most internationally famous Brazilian plastic artists. She dedicated herself to poetry and cultural life in the 1960s and 1970s. Deborah's poetry shows a world full of contradictions.
Myriam Fraga: Biography and Poems | Brazilian Poetry
Biography.
Renata Pallottini: Biography and Poems | Brazilian Poetry
Biography.
Poem
AllfleshI dedícate.
That of the body
that which I eat.
All I dedícate
my love
to your hunger.
To A Murdered Homosexual
You used to train dogs.Probably they never bit you.
Today you are forever beneath the ground
killed by men
who train
devils.
Ride Naked On That Beast
Ride naked on that beastThat might throw you
It's no worse than seeing children
Thrown in the trash heaps
It's no worse than sandals
Smeared with manure
It's no worse than pain
that doesn´t become music
It's no worse than love
that hurts more than all the rest.
Ride naked on that beast
or the world will throw you.
Translated by K. David Jackson
Rachel de Queiroz: Biography and Poems | Brazilian Poetry
Biography.
Glass Tile
When the town girl arrived,she came to live in the farm
at the old house…
too old…
that house was built by my grandpa…
They let her to sleep at the dormitory,
a room with no light, so dark!
Dived into the sadness
from its darkness and its single little door…
The lady didn´t say a word;
but she asked someone to bring from the downtown
a glass tile,
she wanted it was lit up,
her room with no light…
Now the bedroom where she lives
is the liveliest at the farm.
So clear that, at noon,
it is like a lace of the sun arabesques
on the red bricks even being very old,
just now see the sun light…
The white and cold moon
also gets in the light
of the miraculous tile…
Or some daring little star
makes face on the mirror
where the lady combs her hair…
One day you told me
that your life it was all darkness,
gray, cold,
without a moonlight, without a flash…
Why don´t you try?
Wasn´t the lady so well succeed?
Put a glass tile on your life!
Translated by Isaac Furtado
Henriqueta Lisboa: Biography and Poems | Brazilian Poetry
Biography.
Suffering
A salt stonebecomes part of the ocean — very little! —
The soul remained lighter
than the body.
The music, far beyond
the instrument.
Of the lever,
its reason of being: the impetus.
Only the seal remains, the finishing
of the work.
The light which survives the star
and is its crown.
The wonderful. The immortal.
What I lost was so little.
But it was what I loved best.
On The Blind Man
For me the saddest eventis not to see in your eyes
this veil of mist
which hides the performance from you
But your ineptitude, the ineptitude
with which you neglect the display.
Faithfulness
Even now and alwaysthe complaisant love.
In profile from the front
with life everlasting.
And if more absent
at every moment
so much more present
as time goes by
to the soul that allows
in the greatest silence
to keep it inside
the burning dimness
without forgetfulness
never forever
painfully.
Translated by Hélcio Veiga Costa
Carla Diacov: Biography and Poems | Brazilian Poetry
Biography.
The Cair
there once was a couple with only one chairin the chair sat the ovulated wife
and sat the menstruated wife
the man sat in the chair erect there was
this one convention between the couple
that the chair would be a regulating ritual
of the dirtiness type of object of contamination
of the woman things in the man things
afterwards they lay in the very only bed for one
pregnancy never happened and the wife died sitting
in the chair the husband married again but
the new wife brought along another chair and
pregnancy never happened thought
the first husband
we’re not using the same chair
the husband died in the first chair
and the second wife kept the house
with the only bed and she got rid of the first
chair
a fisherman bought the chair for three
scrawny sardines and sat in the chair
facing the world and precisely the world he knew he was
fenced off from the first aura
a chair where the first one
and the contamination
the fisherman was creating another chair
the third
a
daughter of that first convention
Holding Hands
it’s like holding my hands in a bucket of sardines
so many nips
i am wounded
it’s not mortal
passing by those two lovers
was like holding in a bucket of salt
my shredded hands
so many sardines
how the sun cuts
not even half a cat in sight
how the light cuts
how the boat cuts
so many scales
it’s like holding my hands
so many arms
not even half a cat
not even half a tongue
not even half bad
Lap
lay the mute fork in my lapsay incomprehensible things about love
say domestic things about life and hate
say not knowing how to tell death from technical death
say the anguish over the cat’s communication
lay the naked knife in my lap
say forbidden things about the thought of flower
say things under the nails of the dead
between their hairs
lay the dirty plate in my lap
say things and say and dance the fingers
lay the cracked glass in my lap
say things say things and all I hear is the tear in this our gentle language
Translated by Annie McDermott
Eliane Potiguara: Biography and Poems | Brazilian Poetry
Biography.
Eliane Potiguara (1950) is an award-winner writer, poet, activist, professor, social entrepreneur of indigenous descent. She published the following books: A Terra é a Mãe do Índio (1989), Akajutibiró: Terra do Índio Potiguara (1994), Metade Cara, Metade Máscara (2004; 2018), O Sol do Pensamento (2005), O Coco que guardava a noite (2012), O Pássaro Encantado (2014), A Cura da Terra (2015). She was bestowed the Order of Cultural Merit from the Brazilian Ministry of Culture, and participated in the elaboration of The United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP). Her texts and poems have been published in several magazines, websites, anthologies and e-books.In this century of pain
In this century we'll no longer have sexes.For being a mother in this century of death
Is to be feverish to subexist
Is to be a female in pain
Plundered in the condition of woman
I repeat
That in this century we'll no longer have sexes
I don't care if they understand
Or can only grasp it in another stupid century
We no longer have vaginas, we no longer breed
Our husbands have died
And to bear sick indigenous people
For our children to be killed
And thrown in the ditches
On the obscure roads of life
In this world without people
It only takes one mastermind
In this century we'll no longer have breasts
Spites, eyes, mouths or ears
Sexes or ears do not matter
Principles, morals, prejudices or defects
I no longer want the agony of the centuries ...
In this century there'll be no more way for us
Manners, beauty, love or money
In this century, oh God (? !)
There'll be no way for us.
Translated by Rubens Chinali
Published in Contemporary Brazilian Poetry (2020).
Olga Savary: Biography and Poems | Brazilian Poetry
Biography.
Olga Savary (21 May 1933 – 15 May 2020) was a Brazilian writer, poet, and literary critic. She wrote several publications and was a member of PEN International. Notably, she won the Prêmio Jabuti in 1970 for Espelho Provisório. In Olga Savary, there is a mixture of explosion and sensitivity, of folly and modesty, as if she feared, by speaking out loud, she would break the enchantment of life: whether it be a child, a memory, a city. Olga Savary died on 15 May 2020 in Teresópolis at the age of 86 due to COVID-19.Eden Hades
Water gardens satisfy our thirstsunshine swollen in veins
hanging like mango
and I was like the owner of a ship
arrogant, deserving. Just like
an open vowel, I opened doors for the sand
in sudden loss of memory.
That the air should be swallowed like a ship.
All the sea breeze appears on the terraces
and vibrates in the sargassos above the swells.
Caught in the trap
Transforms the darkness to morning.
These are the contours of the dream:
a silver plaque and a name inscribed,
today deleted, engraved long,
long ago. And only that. The gods summon us,
they want us all because they want nothing,
they laugh at us, they lose us to win us
and to our questions
they play deaf,
they don’t respond except for the hollow
echo. Everything loses meaning
evil is pronounced.
Translated by Rosaliene Bacchus
Angélica Freitas: Biography and Poems | Brazilian Poetry
Biography.
Angélica Freitas (born April 8, 1973) is a Brazilian poet and translator. Angélica Freitas had her poems published for the first time in an anthology of Brazilian poetry published in Argentina, titled Cuatro poetas recientes del Brasil (Buenos Aires: Black & Vermelho, 2006), organized and translated by Argentine poet Cristian De Nápoli. Her first book of poems was Rilke Shake (São Paulo: Cosac Naify, 2007). In 2012 her book um útero é do tamanho de um punho was a finalist on 2013 Prêmio Portugal Telecom.The English edition of Rilke Shake (translated by Hillary Kaplan) won the Best Translated Book Award for poetry in 2016. Freitas's poetry was published in France, Germany, Mexico, Spain and the United States. Her poems were published at several print and digital magazinesThe Woman Is A Construction
the woman is a constructionmust be
the woman is basically meant to be
a housing complex
all the same
everything plastered
just change the color
particularly I'm a woman
of bricks on display
in social gatherings having to be
the most hardly dressed
I say I'm a journalist
(the woman is a construction
with too many holes
leaks
the revista nova* is the ministry
of cloacal affairs
pardon me
do not talk about shit in the revista nova*)
you are a woman
and if you suddenly wake up binary and blue
and spend the day turning the light on and off?
(do you like being brazilian?
to be called virginia woolf?)
the woman is a construction
makeup is camouflage
every woman has a gay friend
how good it is to have friends
all friends have a gay friend
who has a woman
who calls him fred astaire
at this point, it's already late
the psychologists of the freud coffee shop
look and smile
nothing is going to change–
nothing will ever change–
the woman is a construction
Translated by Rosaliene Bacchus
Grad
men women are born they growthey see how others are born
and how they disappear
from this mystery a cemetery arises
they bury bodies then forget
men women are born they grow
they see how others are born
and how they disappear
they record, record with their phones
make spreadsheets then forget
they hope their time comes slowly
men women
don’t know what comes next
so they go to grad school
men women are born they grow
they know that one day they’re born
and the next they disappear
but that’s not why they forget
to turn off the lights and the gas
Translated by Daniel Medin
One More (tiny) Thing
don’t calculate what you’ve lost in buying a box of pins (made in china)and from where exactly they emerge with heads (flat)
and your cursing mao tse when a drop of blood appears (from the finger)
and when you find a pin in the street, leave it there (it’s not dead)
the same kind of pin pointing to the blouses (in your closet)
and brushing your skin it produces a red (so rare)
and someone is dreaming of pins (in china)
in this life only valued by a dozen (clearly)
Translated by Farnoosh Fathi