Só

António Pereira Nobre was born on August 16, 1867, on Rua de Santa Catarina, in Porto. The son of wealthy bourgeois parents, he studied at various schools in the city and spent his summers at his family's country houses, in Lixa or Seixo (his "lost paradise," as the poet's greatest biographer, Guilherme de Castilho, called it), or on the beach in Leça, frequented by the English community, where he would discover the fascination of the sea, "Prof. Oceano," his great teacher on Boa Nova beach, a professor in "open classes," and where he would meet Miss Charlotte, a young English governess with whom he would correspond for two years, and who would shorten his name to Anto, which he would turn into a fictional character in "Males de Anto," a poem that concludes "Só." He began writing very early; his first poems date from when he was 15 years old. A few years later he moved to Coimbra, where he studied Law. By that time he had already published numerous poems in newspapers and magazines. He was part of the group of the magazine "Boêmia Nova", directed by Alberto Oliveira. He ended up failing his first year. During the holidays, his friendship with Alberto Oliveira was cemented, with both sharing a house in Leça. Nobre also spent time with the fishermen, who affectionately called him "the New Creature". He returned to Coimbra and after failing a second year, decided to pursue his undergraduate studies in Paris. There he came into contact with the symbolist poets, met Verlaine (who, it seems, greatly admired the verses of the Portuguese poet) and many other "celebrities and wannabes", whom he mentions in a notebook, among whom are the writers Émile Zola, Alexandre Dumas and Mallarmé, or the actress Sarah Bernhardt. But Nobre would end up experiencing moments of anguish in the "city of light," struggling with financial difficulties, far from his homeland, his childhood places, and his friends. And it is in the solitude of his room on rue des Écoles that he would write many of the poems that would make up "Só," published in Paris in 1892 by the Symbolist poets' publisher, Léon Vanier. The work was poorly received in Portugal, with the exception of a few friends, but when the book was republished six years later, the reactions were more favorable. Today, justice is finally done to it, and "Só" is among the greatest books of Portuguese literature. "Só" is a portrait of the country at the end of the 19th century, especially the North (Douro and Minho), made with great irony. The verse of the initial poem, "Memória," "The saddest book there is in Portugal," led many to wrongly judge that it was a sad book, written by someone with a sentimentality marked by sadness at being tubercular. In reality, the poet was "stricken" by Koch's bacillus after the first edition of "Só" was published. However, it is striking how one of the poems in the book, the one that concludes it, "Males de Anto," seems like a predestination. Written during his time in Coimbra, when Nobre was a healthy young man, "Males de Anto," which is simultaneously a portrait of rural Portugal and the poet's "soul sickness," ends up becoming a perverse irony, to the point that the poet, shortly before his death, noted in a letter to a friend: "God punished me. When I was happy and only had the scratches of being 19, I wrote Males de Anto, exaggerating everything. Now I feel them, after having exposed them in Literature." Struck by the disease, and with his friendship with Alberto Oliveira over, Nobre would begin a series of journeys in the hope of a cure. First in Switzerland, at various resorts, from where he would eventually return to Portugal. With the worsening of his symptoms, he embarked for America, passing through New York and Baltimore, where he visited Edgar Allan Poe's grave. Later, in Madeira, he seemed to improve, but returned to the continent again. Lisbon, then back to Switzerland, a stop in Paris, from where he returned to our country already very ill. After a short stay on a family farm in Penafiel, he arrived in Porto on March 17, 1900, where he would die the following day, at the age of 32, in a house in Foz. He left a large number of unpublished poems, which would be published posthumously in the books "Despedidas", "Primeiros Versos" and "Alicerces", and much later, his correspondence. António Nobre would come to be recognized by the modernists and today it is clear that he was one of the greatest contributions to the renewal of poetic language in Portugal. « Georges! Come see my country of sailors, My country of ships, squadrons, and fleets! Oh, the boats of the fishermen from Póvoa, Leaving the harbor, amidst waves and seagulls! How strange this is! They plant their oars in the water until the oar twists, Waiting for the tide, Which soon arrives, out there! And when the wave comes, planting it with all their might, They all cry out at once: "Now! Now! Now!" And, little by little, the boats go out, (Sometimes, God knows, never to return...) What an admirable sight! How beautiful! How beautiful! They hoist the sail when they've reached the sea: The wind gives them strength, and all, in a rush, They go forth magnificently, under a spotless sky, A rosary of sails, unraveled by the wind, Praying, praying the Litany of the Boats: Lady Nagonia! Look, over there! How beautiful you are with your spelling mistake... I wish I could go there! Our Lady of the Guard! (At the helm goes Master Zé da Leonor) It looks like a seagull: point your rifle at it, hunter! Our Lady of Help! Pray for us! Calluda! We are poor! Lord of the Branches! Star of the Sea! Here we go! They look like Our Lady, walking. Our Lady of Light! It looks like the Lighthouse... Mother of Jesus! It's just like her, if the Sun shines on her! Lord of the Steps! Lady of the Hour! Eagles flying, through the sea within the spaces They look like whitewashed hermitages on the outside... Lord of the Navigators! Lord of Matuzinhos! The masters are still the same as before: There goes Bernardo da Silva do Mar, With his four little sons, Vasco da Gama, who are rehearsing... Lady of the Afflicted! Martyr Saint Sebastian! Hear our cries! May God take us by the hand! Let's go in peace! Oh boats, may God take you by the hand. Go in peace! I still see Zé da Clara, the Remelgados, Jeques, the Pardal, in Nam te perdes, And from the waves, to the cadenced rhythms, The boats trace, on the surface of the green waters "The arms and the barons marked..." There goes the last one! It still grabs those in the lead... How it runs! With what force the Wind propels it: Let's go with God! Boats, go with God! Go and return with Him Through this sea of ​​Christ... Farewell! farewell! farewell!» From Lusitania in the Latin Quarter, in "Só" Our Lady of Help! Pray for us! Calluda! We are poor! Lord of the branches! Star of the sea! Here we go They look like Our Lady, walking. Our Lady of Light! It looks like the Lighthouse... Mother of Jesus! It's just like her, if the Sun shines on her! Lord of the Steps! Lady of the Hour! Eagles flying, through the sea within the spaces They look like whitewashed hermitages on the outside... Lord of the Navigators! Lord of Matuzinhos! The masters are still the same as before: There goes Bernardo da Silva do Mar, With his four little sons, Vasco da Gama, who are rehearsing... Lady of the Afflicted! Martyr Saint Sebastian! Hear our cries! May God take us by the hand! Let's go in peace! Oh boats, may God take you by the hand. Go in peace! I still see Zé da Clara, the Remelgados, Jeques, the Pardal, in Nam te perdes, And from the waves, to the measured rhythms, The boats trace, on the surface of the green waters "The arms and the barons marked..." There goes the last one! It still grabs those in the lead... How it runs! With what force the Wind propels it: Let's go with God! Boats, go with God! Go and return with Him Through this sea of ​​Christ... Farewell! farewell! farewell from Lusitania in the Latin Quarter, in "Só"