I read a few books of poetry Elizabeth Bishop and the volume of her collected prose. I read it with pleasure, without hesitation. I leave it until the end of the day when I'm exhausted and I want to sleep, but I do not have enough sleep. I still have a few pages of illumination. It is an inevitable companion before he falls asleep. I freed the accuracy of choosing each word and describing animals, fish and intimate situations from a distance that marks the boundary between emotion and unusualness.
Elizabeth Bishop – shortly down to the literary world – goes to the stage with the film Rarely flowers, focused on the love between the poet and Brazilian architect Lota de Macedo Soares, with whom he lived for 15 years in Petrópolis. I watched a movie on Netflix. I thought I would be disappointed by the complexity of both characters. It was wrong: the portrait made of these women is impenetrable and credible. It shows the rage, ambition, talent, alcoholism and insecurity that two brilliant artists depicted in their lives, distorted by their passions and tragedies.
The long bishopric passage through Brazil is an adventure part – though it did not come out of the garden of its marvelous home – from being devoted to cultivating silence to encourage and write. It was neither easy nor spontaneous for almost anything. She was a sensitive woman who considered herself neurotic and rigorous. His poetry is a central link to the American literary tradition in which Emily Dickinson and Marianne Moore are aligned, their predecessors, authentic eccentricity. He learned from them discretion and unbiased personality. These are women who believe in metaphysical poetry, crazy, inward, delivering imagination rates.
Bishop did not publish too many songs. His books do not deal with one topic. These are sets of different texts whose unity is in their style. In the poems, he does not tell the story or express easily distinguished feelings, what the bishop needs to do, carefully present situations and characters with a technique that simulates objectivity because of the lack of adjectives. It is described. His songs are inspired by subtle hair and visual sensations. They developed verse verses until they were unexpected, the look of the poet with no resonance, in the melancholy tone that distinguished him. They are dealing with loss, insignificant life, and epiphanies that create repression. Musicality is inevitable when we read it, which is why most of the releases circulating from their songs bilingually. Two authors of importance in Spanish are devoted to the translations: Mexicans José Emilio Pacheco and Octavio Paz.
Bishop's photographs show her elusive and ironic. There is the one where you go with your friend Robert Lowell at the edge of the beach. Both laugh. That's the only picture I remember of those poets in a childish attitude. Lowell loved her, even asked for marriage. The bishop has completed a famous and professor at Harvard. Her biographers say she has never been happy teaching, but this work allowed her to stay, which flooded her.
His case is exemplary for one reason: among all his songs there is an unbeatable, classical, leaving the rest of his work on the second level. Perhaps unjust, but at the end of the author's fate the readers are fixed. Art It is mentioned so many times that he does not remember who wrote it. He is no longer a bishop, but for years he is a sign. It is the perfect song about stumbling and imperfection. "The art of losing is not difficult to achieve." Many seem to be deliberately lost, and their loss is not a catastrophe. "The Bishop has touched the irreplaceable and universal zone that identifies readers outside the context surrounding them. The feeling of defeat of destiny in every little thing that happens to us is inherently modern. The Bishop died in Boston on October 6, 1979. A few months ago, he asked his friend Lowell, "When you write your inscription, you must say that I am the most persistent person who has ever lived."