Holy...i want more

holy...i want more

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Faggot

I couldn’t even finish the second page. I had to read something else

I loved the book too but that cover is completely retarded.

Just open up your diary, you reddit cock-sucking cuck.

maybe try actually reading pessoa instead of just reading that richard zenith dude

Pessoa sucks, even Nietzsche is more rewarding than him

Überplebs
Read his poetry now.

Haven't read it, but like the cover

What does the cover mean? i'm puzzled

I see youre a man of audiobookbay as well.

The cover was great.

muh prose muh stoicism the book

This might be your thing, OP.

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Read his poetry.

If you can read any Romance language, that's better than reading him in English.

He was a gigantic poet, perhaps the greatest one of the twentieth century.

The cover is great until you see that fucking basketball. Horrible, can't unsee

>perhaps the greatest one of the twentieth century
Read more poetry

Bloom, Ashbery, and Gao Xingjian all agree. That's two Nobel Prize winners, what are your credentials user?

Don't get me wrong, I really like Pessoa. But Montale is vastly superior as a poet.

Pessoa was a literal retard. His stories are for simple people. THANK GOD he thought himself a worthless faggot, never getting any recognition or validation during his lifetime

Funnily enough, I consider Montale to be one of the greatest poets of the past century too. Montale, Pessoa, Kafávis, and Valery are my favorite 20th century authors, alongside Pound and Eliot (though I am not sure how much of my love for these last two is inspired by their actual literary merit, and how much by the fact that they were my 'teachers').

Pessoa's greatest advantage is how diverse his poetry could be: he was great symbolist, a great romantic, a great neoclassicist (in the truest sense of the word), a great modernist, and a great avant-garde futurist.

>stories

What stories?

Kek'd and checked, thanks for ruining that for me, friend

I don't know who's dumber, an automatic writing theosophist who is so stupid that he actually buys into their crap or people who ready and "enjoy" an automatic writing theosophist who is so stupid he actually buys into their crap.

Go back and read your post and tell me you don't sound like an overreaching, blazer with a turtle neck wearing, red wine drinking, antique collecting (not understanding), pot-bellied, pencil necked, limp wristed, 5am shadow having fucking faggot

You have good taste, similar to mine.

I think it's almost impossible to tell who was the greatest poet in such a complex and diverse century as the twentieth. However, when judging poetry, one should set aside the criteria he uses to judge the rest of literature. Great poetry is when the author moves something completely unspeakable in the depths of your soul, soul that you can also call memory, or unconscious, or psyche – it doesn't matter. Yet it's something absolute, like a religious intuition. I know I'm sounding like a pseud fucking faggot – I guess English is not the best language to speak about that sort of things – but that's how I explain what Montale is able to do in every poem.

Take Eliot, instead. Yeah, he's greatly evocative and everything, but is The Waste Land really so much more than just a beautiful cover on a bookstore's window? I'm not trying to belittle the beauty of that text, I'm rather arguing that its fame is mostly due to its status of "the poem of modernity". One reads that title and suddenly thinks about industrial wasteland and shady suburbs. Woah. The fact, though, is that there were poets who managed to be extraordinarily modern even by speaking of flowers and birds. Therefore I ask: shouldn't we consider them far more modern than Eliot? And that Four Quartets, too. I filled my edition with notes and underlines, but I doubt we can consider some philosophical or spiritual reflections "the best poetry of the twentieth century".

What about Pound? The Cantos is one of my favorite books ever, but it reads more like a delusional postmodern novel than a book of poetry. Pound himself thought he had failed his project. He knew that he touched that "absolute" very few times.

Pessoa is probably better than both Eliot and Pound. However I feel like his style is too direct most of the time. Perhaps I need to read his esoteric poems, who knows (I haven't yet). Montale, though, damn it, each poem is a gold mine. There is so much left untold, that my brain's always trying to grasp something I don't know. That's when you realize poetry is truly great.