Learning Portuguese
O poeta e um fingidor
—Fernando Pessoa
The poet is a faker. And aren’t you,
pretending you have no hand in this verse?
Easily as sea-green slides to blue
my thought dies into yours. The word’s a hearse.
Pretending you have no hand in this verse,
you sip your tea and smile and look away;
my thought dies into yours, the word’s a hearse,
so leave this where it lies and seize the day.
You sip your tea and smile and look away—
windchimes stroke the air, the blossom’s out
so leave this where it lies and seize the day.
The poem can wait (it never had much clout).
Windchimes stroke the air, the blossom’s out,
and look, there’s Venus mimicking a star!
The poem can wait (it never had much clout)
slip over the brink of whoever you think you are.
Look, there’s Venus mimicking a star.
As easily as sea-green slides to blue
we merge at the brink of whoever we think we are.
The poet is a faker. And aren’t you?
Madam: Archbishop Fisher (July-August 2024) does not resist the attacks on his church by the political, social or scientific atheists and those who insist on not being told what to do.
Aug 29 2024
6 mins
To claim Aborigines have the world's oldest continuous culture is to misunderstand the meaning of culture, which continuously changes over time and location. For a culture not to change over time would be a reproach and certainly not a cause for celebration, for it would indicate that there had been no capacity to adapt. Clearly this has not been the case
Aug 20 2024
23 mins
A friend and longtime supporter of Quadrant, Clive James sent us a poem in 2010, which we published in our December issue. Like the Taronga Park Aquarium he recalls in its 'mocked-up sandstone cave' it's not to be forgotten
Aug 16 2024
2 mins