Florbela Espanca Quotes

To be a poet is to be taller, to be bigger
Than men! It is to bite as if you’re kissing!
It is to give alms, although you are a beggar like
King of the Realm where only pain is missing!</p>It is to have a thousand desires for splendor
And do not even know what we want!
It is to have inside yourself a flaming star,
It is to have the condor’s mighty claw and wing! It is to be hungry, to be thirsty of Infinity!
By helmet, golden and satin mornings...
It is to condense the world into one lonely cry! And it is loving you, thus, hopelessly...
And it is you being soul, and blood, and life in me
And tell it singing to everyone!

My love! My lover! Beloved Friend!
Grab this wondrous, fleeting moment, Drink it inside me,
Let’s drink it together to the end!
[...]
And upon returning, love...
Taking mysterious paths along the meadows
On grassy carpets on the forest floor,
We will make a star of our two shadows.

All of my love letters are nothing more than the realization of my need to make phrases.

I dream I am the chosen Poet,
Who knows all there is to know on Earth,
The one whose inspiration’s pure and perfect,
And captures infinity in a verse! I dream a verse of mine has all the brightness
To light the whole world! And it will please Even those who long and die of sadness!
And even wise, unhappy souls it will appease.

The love I feel for you
Is so deep and runs so true
That I even love the longing
That I feel because of you.

Beija-me as mãos, Amor, devagarinho...
Como se os dois nascessemos irmãos,
Aves cantando, ao sol, no mesmo ninho... Beija-mas bem!... Que fantasia louca
Guardar assim, fechados, nestas mãos,
Os beijos que sonhei pra minha boca!

Todas as minhas cartas de amor não são mais que a realização da minha necessidade de fazer frases.

Sometimes I start looking at the mirror and examining myself, feature by feature: eyes, mouth, shape of the forehead, eyelids curve, the face line... And this vulgar and hideous-looking, grotesque and miserable amalgam, would it know how to do verses? Oh, no! There is something else … but what? After all, why think? To live is to not know that one is living... Why don't I forget that I am living... to live?

The soul of a poetess is all made of light, like that of the stars: it doesn’t blind the onlooker, it illuminates...

Sonho que sou a Poetisa eleita, Aquela que diz tudo e tudo sabe,
Que tem a inspiração pura e perfeita,
Que reúne num verso a imensidade! Sonho que um verso meu tem claridade
Para encher todo o mundo! E que deleita
Mesmo aqueles que morrem de saudade!
Mesmo os de alma profunda e insatisfeita!

If you came to see me in the evening,
That time of mild and magic weariness,
When nighttime softly covers everything,
And took me in your arms with tenderness.
[...]
And my lips are like a flower in the sun...
When my eyes are tightly closed with strong desire...
And I hold out my arms to bring you near...