Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa, or dimensions of poetical music

Jennings  on  the  Trail  of  Pessoa   or  dimensions  of  poetical  music     Pedro  Marques*       Keywords     Fernando   Pessoa,   Hubert   Jennings,   Roy   Campbell,   Peter   Rickart,   translation,   versification,   musicality,   The   thing   that   hurts   and   wrings,  What   grieves   me   is   not,   What   saddens   me   is   not.     Abstract     Here   we   present   two   unpublished   essays   by   Hubert   Jennings   about   the   challenges   of   translating   the   poetry   of   Fernando   Pessoa:   the   first   one   of   them,   brief   and   fragmentary,   is   analyzed   in   the   introduction;   the   second,   longer   and   also   covering   issues   besides   translation,  is  presented  in  the  postscript.  Having  as  a  starting  point  the  Pessoan  poem  “O   que   me   doe”   and   three   translations   compared   by   Hubert   Jennings,   this   presentation   examines   some   aspects   of   poetic   musicality   in   the   Portuguese   language:   verse   measurement,   stress   dynamics,   rhymes,   anaphors,   and   parallelisms.   The   introduction   also   discusses   how   much   the   English   versions   of   the   poem,   which   are   presented   by   Jennings,   recreate  (or  not)  the  musical-­‐‑poetic  dimensions  of  the  original  text.     Palavras-­‐‑chave     Fernando   Pessoa,   Hubert   Jennings,   Roy   Campbell,   Peter   Rickart,   tradução,   versificação,   musicalidade,  O  que  me  doe,  O  que  me  dói.     Resumo     Reproduzem-­‐‑se   aqui   dois   ensaios   inéditos   de   Hubert   Jennings   sobre   os   desafios   de   se   traduzir  a  poesia  de  Fernando  Pessoa:  o  primeiro  deles,  breve  e  fragmentário,  é  analisado   numa   introdução;   o   segundo,   mais   longo   e   versando   também   sobre   questões   alheias   à   tradução,  é  apresentado  em  postscriptum.  A  partir  do  poema  pessoano  “O  que  me  dói”  e  de   três  traduções  comparadas  por  Hubert  Jennings,  esta  apresentação  enfoca  alguns  aspectos   da   música   poética   em   língua   portuguesa:   medida   do   verso,   dinâmica   dos   acentos,   rimas,   anáforas   e   paralelismos.   A   introdução   também   discute   o   quanto   as   versões   do   poema   em   língua   inglesa,   apresentadas   por   Jennings,   refazem   (ou   não)   os   níveis   músico-­‐‑poéticos   do   texto  original.         *  Universidade  Federal  de  São  Paulo  (UNIFESP),  Department  of  Literature.   Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa       Among   Hubert   Jennings’s   papers   one   may   find   a   brief   and   fragmentary   discussion  –  maybe  a  project  for  an  essay  –  on  the  challenge  of  translating  a  poem   by   Fernando   Pessoa,   the   poem   with   incipit   “O   que   me   doe   não   é”   in   the   original   Portuguese   orthography   (PESSOA,   1942:   168).   In   just   four   typed   pages   outlining   technical   problems   with   the   transposition   of   musicality   from   one   language   to   another,  Jennings  touches  on  some  fundamental  keynotes  of  metrified  poetry.     Though  not  mentioned,  the  tension  between  accentual-­‐‑syllabic  versification   (fixed  meter  and  stress,  common  in  English)  and  syllabic  versification  (fixed  meter   and   variable   stress,   common   in   Portuguese)   orbits   the   document   written   by   Jennings.  The  border  between  these  two  metrical  systems  is  genuine  and  slippery   (RAMOS,   1959);   for   example,   while   a   Sapphic   sonnet,   in   Portuguese,   tends   to   be   accentual-­‐‑syllabic;   a   madrigal,   in   English,   tends   to   be   syllabic.   In   any   case,   a   translated  text  is  always  kept  as  accentual-­‐‑syllabic  if  the  rhythm  of  the  original  is  to   be   reproduced.   I   underline,   in   this   sense,   the   following   aspects   concerning   the   poem  “O  que  me  doe”:     1)  metric  and  rhythmic  characteristics  (of  the  original  text);     2)  Jennings’s  positions  on  musicality;     3)  metric  and  rhythmic  characteristics  of  the  different  versions;     4)  comparison  of  the  formal  models  of  the  original  text  and  its  translations.     The   intention   is   not   to   exhaustively   study   the   complexity   of   these   matters,   but  to  explore  how  they  were  manipulated  by  the  skilful  hands  of  Pessoa  and  read   by  the  unusual  insight  of  Jennings.     In   the   first1  paragraph   of   the   typescript,   Jennings   confirms   the   traditional   type   of   sonority   of   Pessoa’s   poem.   Jennings   does   not   cling   to   the   technicalities   of   meter  or  stress,  but  speaks  of  rhymes  and  of  a  current  of  words  that  are  woven  into   a  structural  harmony,  a  kind  of  naturalness  of  the  text  (“a  little  rivulet  of  verse,”  as   Jennings   mentions   in   the   first   page   of   his   essay).   This   kind   of   sound   pattern,   as   Jennings   perceives   it,   would   not   be   very   frequent,   considering   the   poet’s   general   production.   At   the   same   time,   Jennings   detects   the   impossibility   of   rendering   the   exact  same  effect  of  such  musicality  in  another  language.   In   the   second   paragraph,   it   is   assumed   that   the   musicality   of   “O   que   me   doe”  contains  something  poignant  (“the  haunting  music,”  in  Jennings’s  words).   We  reproduce  here  the  poem  in  the  original  spelling  of  Pessoa:            The   first   paragraph   we   have,   since   the   text   found   in   the   Jennings’s   estate   is   fragmentary;   see   description  of  documents  for  more  details.   1 Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 328 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa O  que  me  doe  não  é   O  que  ha  no  coração   Mas  essas  coisas  lindas   Que  nunca  existirão...     São  as  fórmas  sem  fórma   Que  passam  sem  que  a  dor   As  possa  conhecer   Ou  as  sonhar  o  amor.     São  como  se  a  tristeza   Fôsse  arvore  e,  uma  a  uma,   Cahissem  suas  folhas   Entre  o  vestigio  e  a  bruma.    [BNP/E3,  118-­‐‑16r,  detail;  1st  publication  in  PESSOA,  1942:  168]     According  to  Jennings,  Roy  Campbell’s  English  translation  didn’t  manage  to   recreate   the   very   noticeable   lyricism   of   the   original.   The   protagonism   of   the   musical  effects  in  a  lyrical  poem  is,  thus,  attributed  to  sound.  Let  us  observe,  in  a   less   impressionistic   manner,   how   the   music   of   Pessoa’s   text   (besides   its   acoustic   sonority)  rests  upon  five  points  that,  indeed,  challenge  the  work  of  the  translator.   The   following   first   two   dimensions   tend   to   be   abstract;   the   third,   sonorous;   the   fourth  and  fifth,  discursive.   1.  Measure.   Each   line   of   the   poem   has   six   syllables,   counting   up   to   the   last   tonic,   according   to   the   reform   proposed   by   António   Feliciano   de   Castilho   in   the   nineteenth   century.   Between   the   pentasyllable   (redondilha   menor)   and   the   heptasyllable   (redondilha   maior),   the   hexasyllable   is   a   meter   capable   of   enhancing   orality.   Its   extension   is   comparable   to   the   emission   of   a   standard   phrase.   It   is,   actually,   a   phrasal   measure   commonly   found   in   a   conversation   with   a   moderate   pace,  hence  the  pleasant  way  it  sounds  when  pronounced  or  heard  in  the  poem.     2.  Stress.   The   verses   operate   as   a   fixed   measure   (six   syllables)   allowing   for   internal  stress  mobility.  Stresses  may  fall  on  the  second,  third,  or  fourth  syllables.   The   meter   is   established,   but   the   prosodic   nature   is   kept,   with   a   particular   intonation,   owing   to   the   syllabic   versification   that   organizes   most   of   the   fixed   forms  of  Portuguese  poetry.  Even  (as  opposed  to  odd)  meters,  due  to  their  capacity   for  generating  rhythmic  symmetries  (even  when  inexact),  resemble  the  intonation   of  the  spoken  word,  to  the  “recitative  rhythm”  (CARVALHO,  1991:  51).   3.   Sonorities.   Measures   and   stresses   are   rhythmical   phenomena   that   are   mainly  musical;  they  are  responsible  for  the  regularity  of  the  poetical  tempo.  This   is  the  less  accessible  abstraction  for  the  beginner  reader/listener.  As  for  the  rhymes,   though  also  abstract  in  one  aspect,  in  another  they  operate  the  quality  of  the  sound.   For  example,  even  children  expect  to  hear  the  suffix  -­‐‑inho2  after  the  word  pedacinho    The  suffix  -­‐‑inho  is  a  common  diminutive  in  Portuguese.   2 Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 329 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa in   the   Brazilian   country   rhyme:   “Se   meu   coração   partisse,   /   Eu   te   dava   um   pedacinho,  /  Como  coração  não  parte,  /  Eu  te  dou  ele  inteirinho.”  (AZEVEDO,  2008:   36).   The   endings   of   both   words   have   identical   timbre   and   stress   in   the   heptasyllable.   Rhymes   generate   symmetrical   sound   patterns,   which   are   highly   perceptible.   In   Pessoa’s   poem,   the   rhymes,   which   are   all   consonant,   always   fall   upon  even  lines;  this  fact  and  the  brevity  of  the  measure  lead  us  to  read  two  lines   in  a  single  breath  or  mental  impulse.  In  the  first  two  quatrains  the  rhymes  are  acute   and   dry.   In   the   third,   the   poet   prefers   a   grave   rhyme;   the   dark   timbre   of   the   stressed  vowel  [u]  underlines  the  conclusive  tone.     Another   sound   phenomenon,   audible   even   by   one   not   too   familiar   with   poetry,   is   the   recurrence   of   vocalic   and   consonantal   sounds;   Pessoa   uses   them   constantly,   sometimes   repeating   the   entire   word   (fórma,   sem   or   uma).   I   would   highlight   those   instances   in   which   both   sound   effects   occur   simultaneously,   as   with   some   verbs   which,   though   different,   repeat   sounds.   In   lines   six   and   seven,   passam  and  possa,  besides  sounding  almost  identical,  also  occupy  the  same  metrical   foot,   intimating   the   idea,   as   in   Hamlet,   that   what   passes   (passa)   implicates   a   potential  of  being  and  not  being  (possa).  Something  similar  occurs  in  lines  ten  and   eleven,   with   fossem   and   cahissem.   Alliterations   and   assonances   generate,   thus,   asymmetrical  sound  patterns  that  are  generally  perceptible.   4.   Anaphora.   The   poem   begins   by   doubling   the   expression   “O   que”   in   the   first  two  lines,  as  if  answering  an  unheard  question  made  by  the  reader,  something   like:  “O  que  mais  te  machuca,  meu  senhor?”(What  is   hurting  you,   sir?).  The  next   two  stanzas  start  with  the  verb  ser  (to  be)  in  the  same  tense:  são  (they  are).  The  first   case   gives   an   answer   full   of   curves,   an   anti-­‐‑emotional   pain   which   prefers   to   aestheticize   the   inexistent   or   that   which   exists   with   no   concrete   reference.   The   second   underlines,   diving   fully   into   the   artificiality   of   poetry   as   an   autonomous   space,   the   state   of   “coisas   que   nunca   existirão”   (things   that   will   never   exist).   The   fifth  line  reinforces  the  aestheticism  in  the  symbolist  fashion—this  is,  it  prefers  the   sterile  in  the  world,  as  long  as  it  is  fertile  in  art—while  also  echoing  the  first  part  of   T.  S.  Eliot’s  The  Hollow  Men  (1925)  (“Shape  without  form,  shade  without  colour”).   5.   Parallelism.   Pessoa   does   not   use   this   dimension   as   a   linguistic   gesture   linked   to   oral   performances   of   rituals,   choreographies,   or   songs.   In   cultivated   poetry   such   as   this,   parallelistic   patterns   “têm   mero   efeito   artístico,   finalidade   estética,   visto   que   aquelas   condições   extra-­‐‑poéticas   desaparecem”(have   a   mere   artistic  effect,  an  aesthetic  aim,  because  those  extra-­‐‑poetical  conditions  disappear)   (SPINA,  2002:  76).  Underlining  the  reflexive  complexity  of  this  poem,  the  resource  is   only  used  because  syntax  is  written,  mostly,  in  subordinative  clauses.  The  relative   pronoun  que  (that),  by  modifying  the  verbs  existir  (to  exist)  and  passar  (to  pass)—   both  central  to  the  poem—in  the  fourth  and  sixth  lines,  creates  a  kind  of  syntactic   welding  that  is  responsible  for  keeping  all  three  stanzas  intellectually  embraced.  It   is  more  of  a  syntactical  than  a  playful  or  sonorous  parallelism.     Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 330 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa Individually,   each   of   these   dimensions   designs   a   musical   pattern   in   any   given  poem.  In  some  cases,  music  and  discourse  close  a  communicative  circuit;  in   others,  they  short-­‐‑circuit,  crashing  in  hermeticisms  that  are  not  always  intentional.   In   our   specific   case,   Pessoa’s   poem   arranges   several   layers   simultaneously,   but   it   does   not   abdicate   from   singing   and   flowing   in   this   same   plurality   of   sounds   and   senses.   It   is   a   unique   symphony,   difficult   to   translate,   which   evinces   that   multidimensional  poetry  does  not  fatally  result  in  affectation  or  obscurity;  this  is  so   true,  that  the  five  levels  are  not  recreated  together  in  any  of  the  versions  presented   in  Jennings’s  typescript.   As   we   may   verify   in   Jennings’s   essay,   Roy   Campbell   privileges   the   first,   second,  and  third  dimensions,  creating  a  text  with  a  fluency  that  seems  common  to   metrical  poetry  in  English  language.  To  compensate  for  the  absence  of  dimensions   4   and   5,   he   even   reinforces   the   system   of   rhymes,   making   the   odd   lines   of   the   stanza   rhyme   with   each   other,   which   does   not   occur   in   the   original.   Hubert   Jennings,   in   his   turn,   works   on   the   fourth   and   fifth   dimensions,   privileging   the   sense  and  syntax  of  the  source  text,  instead  of  simulating  a  poem  as  if  it  had  been   written   in   English   by   Pessoa   himself.   Still,   in   the   two   first   stanzas,   he   keeps   the   beat  of  the  six-­‐‑syllable  meter,  partially  contemplating  the  first  dimension.  Yet  Peter   Rikart   conceives   a   version   that   mixes   elements   employed   by   Campbell   and   Jennings—he  recreates  dimensions  4  and  5  and,  tangentially,  1,  in  a  kind  of  multi-­‐‑ tempo   meter   that,   potentially,   stiffens   and   relaxes   the   breath   in   six   syllables.   It   is   this  version  that  sounds  favorable  to  me,  because  it  brings  out  the  English  prosody   instead   of   the   Portuguese.   In   any   case,   the   English   reader,   in   the   presence   of   all   three  translations  here  available,  will  have  a  vision  well  anchored  on  the  original.   Proceeding  with  his  essay,  Hubert  Jennings  also  mentions  the  absence  of  the   word  vestigio3  (vestige)  as  a  fault  of  Campbell’s  translation.  According  to  Jennings,   that  keyword  would  contain  all  the  tension  of  the  poem,  all  the  “coisas  lindas  que   nunca   existirão”   (the   beautiful   things   that   will   never   exist).   This   is   probably   the   most  controversial  part  of  the  document.  The  word,  in  Portuguese,  is  a  synonym  of   rastro   (trail,   track),   indício   (trace,   evidence),   pista   (hint,   clue),   or   resto   (rest,   remainder).   It   focuses   on   the   temporal   passing,   on   the   unrestrainable   river   of   actions  and  feelings  such  as  grief  and  love,  which  vestigio  contains.  Neither  of  these   two   feelings,   however,   need   to   be   understood   in   the   poem   (as   Jennings   implies   they   should   be   understood)   as   emotions   with   the   same   status.   The   grief   may   be   from   missing   an   ended   love,   or,   speaking   like   Pessoa,   of   a   love   that   never   even   came  to  be.  Jennings’s  discomfort  is  noticeable  because  his  musical  “estratégia  de   compensação”  (compensation  strategy)—to  use  an  expression  of  Paulo  Henriques    Whenever   we   refer   to   a   word   from   Pessoa’s   poem,   we   use   the   orthography   preferred   by   the   poet—even  if  such  an  orthography  would  be  seen  as  incorrect  today  (for  example,  vestigio  is  now   written   with   a   stress,   vestígio);   in   the   transcriptions   presented   as   annexes,   we   reproduce   the   orthography  preferred  by  Jennings  (who  wrote  vestígio),  always  opting  to  maintain  the  orthography   of  the  documents  being  studied. 3 Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 331 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa Britto   (2012:   146),   translator   from   English   to   Brazilian   Portuguese—does   not   coincide   with   Campbell’s.   Each   one   of   them   tried   to   emphasize   diverse   dimensions,  which  are  curiously  complementary.   Finally,   to   miss   what   never   was,   alongside   a   symphonic   musicality,   brings   to   mind   a   certain   symbolist   or   decadent   atmosphere.   There   is,   in   that   context,   an   idea   that   that   which   is   sterile,   missing,   or   useless   gains   aesthetic   force.   Thus,   the   turtle   encrusted   with   precious   jewels   turned   into   an   ornament:   À  rebours  (Against   Nature,   Cap.   IV)   by   J.-­‐‑K.   Huysmans.   The   kiss   never   given:   “Another   Fan   of   Mademoiselle   Mallarmé”   by   Stephan   Mallarmé.   The   burial   of   dead   dreams:   “Violões   que   Choram”   (Moaning   guitars)   by   Cruz   e   Souza.   The   “saudade   for   the   present”:   “Tenho   sonhos   cruéis:   n’alma   doente”   (I   have   cruel   dreams:   in   the   sick   soul)  by  Camilo  Pessanha.  And  this  tree  from  Pessoa’s  poem,  which  is  interesting   because   of   its   missing   leaves.   It   could   even   be   read   as   an   image   of   scattered   authorship,  of  Pessoa’s  heteronymism,  whose  traces,  when  put  together,  reveal  not   the   creative   subject,   but   the   still   polyhedral   creation,   a   vigorous   “estado   de   concreção   poética”   (state   of   poetic   precision)   (GAGLIARDI,   2010:   296).   To   a   certain   extent,   all   of   these   are   “forms   without   forms,”   symbols   pregnant   with   meaning   precisely  because  of  their  nature  of  suggestive  traces,  thus  open  to  the  perceptive   fabulation  of  the  reader.  “Entre  o  vestigio  e  a  bruma,”  that  is,  between  the  footstep   and  the  wind  which  sweeps  the  sand,  we  create  a  meter,  a  mark,  an  image  of  the   foot.   Jennings   could   have   dissolved   the   jumble   with   the   term   “trace,”   used,   for   example,   in   the   expression   “mnemonic   trace”   or   “memory   trace”—English   versions  of  the  concept  Erinnerungsspur  developed  by  Freud  in  his  Interpretation  of   Dreams.  And,  what  else  is  transposed  poetry,  if  not  that  trace  of  what  could  have   been  in  one  language,  which  contorts  itself  to  dream  as  another?       Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 332 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa Postscript       As  this  text  was  being  prepared,  a  second  and  longer  typescript  by  Jennings   was   found,   a   separate   text   related   to   the   fragmented   essay   I   presented.   With   the   title  “Campbell  &  Pessoa,”  the  new  document,  consisting  of  ten  pages,  is  not  really   an  extended  version  of  the  first  one,  though  they  have  points  in  common.     The   first   pages   deal   with   the   biographic   and   cultural   similarities   between   the  two  characters  mentioned  in  the  title,  the  first  being  a  translator  into  English  of   the   second.   The   text   unfolds   several   pieces   of   information,   for   example,   the   fact   that   both   Campbell   and   Pessoa   lived   in   Durban,   South   Africa,   and   dedicated   themselves  to  alcohol  and  to  a  single  respective  true  love  in  their  respective  lives.     Next,  using  the  “Ode  Triunfal”(Triumphal  Ode)  as  a  starting  point,  Jennings   reflects  on  human  decadence  connected  to  the  modern  city  and  on  certain  cultural   values   on   the   verge   of   collapse,   associating   Fernando   Pessoa’s   poem   with   T.   S.   Eliot’s  The  Waste  Land.  And  there  are  more  drafts  of  interesting  reflections,  more  or   less  fragmentary—leading  us  to  believe  that  we  have  another  unfinished  text.     Jennings  mentions  the  “cross-­‐‑pollination  of  minds”  (in  the  words  of  Laurens   van  der  Post)  to  illustrate  how  much  Pessoa  is  redefining  (“rerendering”),  in  quite   a  particular  manner,  notions  taken  from  Teixeira  de  Pascoaes.  Jennings  also  refers   to  the  famous  “objective  correlative,”  attributed  to  Eliot,  in  order  to  prove  to  what   extent  art,  in  Pessoa,  can  be  an  expression  of  cohesive  thoughts,  which,  ciphered  in   images,  live  behind  the  poetical  emotion.     Of   all   the   passages   of   this   second   typescript,   the   one   that   adds   most   to   our   discussion   on   translation   is   on   pages   eight   and   nine.   There,   Jennings   offers   more   comments   on   Campbell’s   translation   praxis,   which,   he   believes,   alters   the   disposition  of  Pessoa’s  style  from  a  simple  and  Romance  language  (in  the  sense  of   Portuguese   as   a   plastically   oral   language   derived   from   Latin)   to   an   excessively   rigid  and  literary  expression.  It  is  as  if  the  original  demanded  reading  and  listening   and  the  translation,  only  reading.  Exemplifying  his  argument  with  “O  que  me  doe”   (the   central   poem   in   the   first   document,   but   not   in   this   second   one),   Jennings   assures   that   Campbell’s   version   still   intends   to   rigorously   keep   the   exactitude   of   form  and  the  unity  of  the  original,  without,  though,  reproducing  the  spirit—that  is,   the   intention—of   Pessoa.   In   this   sense,   maybe   Jennings   would   agree   with   me   in   emphasizing,  as  I  did  above,  Campbell’s  capacity  to  recreate  the  first,  second,  and   third  dimensions  of  the  original  (as  I  have  defined  them).     Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 333 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa Bibliography     AZEVEDO,  Ricardo  (2008).  “Região  Sudeste”.  In:  Cultura  da  terra.  São  Paulo:  Moderna.   BRITTO,   Paulo   Henriques   (2012).   “A   Tradução   de   Poesia”.   In:   A   Tradução   Literária.   Rio   de   Janeiro:    Civilização  Brasileira.   CARVALHO,  Amorim  de  (1991).  Tratado  de  Versificação  Portuguesa.  Coimbra:  Livraria  Almedina.   ELIOT,  T.  S.  (2004).  Obra  Completa  –  Poesia,  Vol.  I.  Edição  bilíngue.  Tradução,  introdução  e  notas  de    Ivan  Junqueira.  São  Paulo:  Arx.   FERRARI,   Patricio   &   PITTELLA-­‐‑LEITE,   Carlos   (2015).   “Four   Unpublished   English   Sonnets   (and   the   Editorial  Status  of  Pessoa'ʹs  English  Poetry),”  in  Portuguese  Literary  &  Cultural  Studies  (PLCS)   n.  28,  Fernando  Pessoa  as  English  Reader  and  Writer.  Dartmouth:  Tagus  Press,  Spring  2015,   pp.  227-­‐‑246.   FREUD,   Sigmund   (1987).   A   Interpretação   dos   Sonhos,   Vol.   I   [1900].   Tradução   da   edição   inglesa   com   notas  e  comentários  do  editor  inglês  James  Strachey.  Rio  de  Janeiro:  Imago.   GAGLIARDI,   Caio   (2010).   “O   Problema   da   Autoria   na   Teoria   Literária:   Apagamentos,   Retomadas   e   Revisões”.  São  Paulo:  Estudos  Avançados,  vol.  24,  no.  69.   HUYSMANS,  J.-­‐‑K.  (1987).  Às  Avessas  [1884].  Tradução  e  estudo  crítico  de  José  Paulo  Paes.  São  Paulo:   Companhia  das  Letras.   JENNINGS,  Hubert  D.  (1986).  Fernando  Pessoa  in  Durban.  Durban:  Durban  Corporation.   ____    (1984).   Os   Dois   Exílios:   Fernando   Pessoa   na   África   Do   Sul.   Porto:   Centro   de   Estudos   Pessoanos.   MALLARMÉ,   Stéphane   (2002).   Poesias   [1972].   Edição   bilíngue.   Tradução   e   estudos   de   Augusto   de    Campos,  Décio  Pignatari  e  Haroldo  de  Campos.  São  Paulo:  Editora  Perspectiva.   MONTEIRO,   George   (1994).   “Fernando   Pessoa:   an   Unfinished   Manuscript   by   Roy   Campbell,”   in   Portuguese  Studies,  Vol.  10.  Cambridge:  MHRA,  pp.  122-­‐‑154.   PESSANHA,   Camilo   (1994).   Clepsydra:   Poemas   de   Camilo   Pessanha.   Estabelecimento   de   texto,    introdução   crítica,   notas   e   comentários   de   Paulo   Franchetti.   Campinas,   SP:   Editora   da    UNICAMP.   PESSOA,  Fernando  (1942).  Poesias.  Lisboa:  Ática.   RAMOS,   Péricles   Eugênio   da   Silva   (1959).   “Os   Princípios   Silábico   e   Silábico-­‐‑Acentual”.   In:   O   Verso   Romântico  e  Outros  Ensaios.  São  Paulo:  Conselho  Estadual  de  Cultura.   SOUSA,   Cruz   e   (1961).   Obra   Completa.   Organização   geral,   introdução,   notas,   cronologia   e    bibliografia  de  Andrade  Muricy.  Rio  de  Janeiro:  Editora  José  Aguilar.   SPINA,  Segismundo  (2002).  Na  Madrugada  das  Formas  Poéticas  [1982].  Cotia,  SP:  Ateliê  Editorial.     Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 334 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa Documents     I.   Unpublished.   Four   pages   of   a   typed   essay   by   Hubert   Jennings   found   inside   the   folder   “Translations—T1”  in  the  Jennings  literary  estate.    Undated,  but  written  after  1965  (as  it   cites   a   book   from   that   year),   probably   also   after   1968   (when   Jennings   started   studying   Portuguese  in  Lisbon).  Incomplete,  given  the  first  page  begins  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence.   There  is  a  related  essay,  “Campbell  and  Pessoa,”  which  we  transcribe  as  Document  II.         Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 335 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa                   Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 336 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa                   Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 337 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa           Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 338 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa    10          [→  5  2  ]4         something   like   our   ballad   form,   into   which   the   rhymes   (generally   absent   in   his   heteronyms)  chime  naturally.      A  little  rivulet  of  verse,  two  or  three  simple  words   to  a  line  and  extending  no  more  than  three  or  four  quatrains,  the  thought  is  often   so  terse  and  concentrated  that  it  requires  all  the  attention  of  the  reader  to  follow.     And  they  are  almost  impossible  to  translate.   Roy   Campbell5  has   caught   some   of   the   haunting   music   of   Pessoa’s   lyrics   which  (in  his  words)  “sometimes  tremble  on  the  verge  of  silence”,  but,  in  doing  so,   he   sometimes   diverges   considerably   from   what   Pessoa   actually   says.     Let   us   take   the  most  beautiful  of  the  three  he  has  given  us:     The  thing  that  hurts  and  wrings   Was  never  in  my  heart.     It'ʹs  one  of  those  fair  things     In  life  that  have  no  part.     Shape  without  shape  –  each  shape     Seems  silently  to  flit   Ere  known  by  grief,  and  fade   Ere  love  can  dream  of  it.     They  are  as  if  our  grief     Were  a  dark  tree  from  whom     They  flutter  leaf  by  [leaf]   Into  the  mist  and  gloom.     And  here  is  the  original  with  a  literal  translation  alongside  it:                    Given  the  incompleteness  of  the  text,  we  indicate  the  page  numbers  as  they  appear  in  the  original.   4  Note   by   Jennings   (unless   indicated,   all   other   transcription   notes   are   from   the   editors):   Roy   Campbell,  Collected  Works  Vol.  III.  p.  136    Bodley  Head,  London,  1960.   5   Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 339 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa   11          [→  5  3  ]     O  que  me  dói  não  é   O  que  há  no  coração6   Mas  essas  coisas  lindas7   Que  nunca  existirão.     São  as  formas  sem  forma   Que  passam  sem  que  a  dor   As  possa  conhecer   Ou  as  sonhar  o  amor.     São  como  se  a  tristeza   Fosse  árvore  e,  uma  a  uma,   Caíssem  suas  folhas   Entre  o  vestígio  e  a  bruma.   What  pains  me  is  not   What  is  in  my  heart   But  those  beautiful  things   Which  will  never  exist.     They  are  shapes  without  a  shape   Which  pass  without  sorrow   Coming  to  know  them   Or  love  to  dream  of  them.     They  are  as  if  sadness   Was  a  tree  which,  one  by  one,   Lets  fall  its  leaves   Between  the  vestige  and  the  mist.       In  the  last  line,  the  use  of  the  word  “vestige”  strikes  us  as  odd.    It  takes  some   little  effort  of  the  imagination  to  realize  that  Pessoa  meant  by  it  the  bare  trunk  that   was  left  when  the  leaves  had  fallen.    But  to  leave  out  the  word  (as  Campbell  did)  is   to  miss  the  key  to  the  poem.    For  the  purposes  of  his  imagery,  it  is  the  momentary   glimpse  of  the  fallen  leaves  that  is  important.    The  tree  that  remains  is  not.    For  the   falling   leaves   represent   for   him   those   vague   impressions   that   seem   to   float   half-­‐‑ way   in   and   half-­‐‑way   out   of   our   consciousness   and   disappear   before   we   can   find   out  what  they  are.    Grief  or  love  can  sharpen  our  sensibilit[→y]  but  they  remain  for   us   “beautiful   things   which   will   never   exist”.     We   hear   the   call   of   a   bird,   and   immediately  something  surges  up  within  us  which  is,  in  effect,  another  song.    But   when  we  stop  to  listen,  the  bird  and  the  two  songs,  its  and  our  own,  which  joined   in   momentary   chorus,   have   gone.     We   have   become   as   desolate   as   Shakespeare’s     trees  –  “Bare,  ruin’d  choirs  where  once  the  wild  birds  sang”.                “corazão”  in  the  text  typed  by  Jennings,  perhaps  due  to  a  lack  of  the  symbol  “ç”  on  the  author’s   keyboard.   6  “lindas  coisas”  in  the  text  typed  by  Jennings—an  inversion  that  is  corrected  in  the  next  pages.   7 Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 340 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa 5  4     Fernando  Pessoa   p.  169    Obra  poética   (Rio,  2nd  ed.)     O  que  me  dói  não  é   O  que  há  no  coração   Mas  essas  coisas  lindas   Que  nunca  existirão.8     São  as  formas  sem  forma   Que  passam  sem  que  a  dor   As  p[↑o]ssa  conhecer   Ou  as  sonhar  o  amor.     São  como  se  a  tristeza   Fosse  árvore  e,  uma  a  uma,   Caíssem  suas  folhas   Entre  o  vestígio  e  a  bruma.     Peter  Rickart   Fernando  Pessoa   Translated  and  edited  by   Peter  Rickart.       Univ.  Press,  Edinburgh   p.  41     What  grieves  me  is  not   What  lies  within  my  heart   But  those  things  of  beauty   Which  can  never  be.     They  are  the  shapeless  shapes   Which  pass  through  sorrow   Cannot  know  them   Nor  love  dream  them.     They  are  as  though  sadness   Were  a  tree  and,  one  by  one,   The  leaves  were  to  fall   Half-­‐‑outlined  in  the  mist.     Roy  Campbell         The  thing  that  hurts  and  wrings   Was  never  in  my  heart.     It'ʹs  one  of  those  fair  things     In  life  that  have  no  part.     Shape  without  shape,  each  shape9     Seems  silently  to  flit   Ere  known  by  grief,  and  fade   Ere  love  can  dream  of  it.     They  are  as  if  our  grief     Were  a  dark  tree  from  whom     They  flutter  leaf  by  leaf   Into  the  mist  and  gloom.           Literal  translation  (H.  J.)         What  hurts  me  is  not   What  there  is  in  my  heart   But  those  lovely  things     Which  will  never  exist.     They  are  shapes  without  shape   Which  disappear  before  sorrow   Can  get  to  know  them   Or  love  to  dream  of  them.     They  are  as  if  sadness   Were  a  tree  from  which   The  leaves  fall,  one  by  one,   Between  the  vestige  and  the  mist.     (The  “vestige”  is  the  bare  tree  that  is  left   when  the  leaves  have  fallen.)    “existerão”  in  the  text  typed  by  Jennings,  as  a  typo.   8  Note  that  this  verse  has  a  comma,  while  in  the  previous  page  it  had  a  dash.   9 Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 341 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa   5,510     O  QUE  ME  DOI        by  Fernando  Pessoa.  (Obra  poetica,  Aguilar,  Rio  de  Janeiro,  1965,  p.  169)     Campbell’s  translation.   Original   Literal         The  thing  that  hurts  and  wrings   O  que  me  dói  não  é   What  pains  me  is  not   Was  never  in  my  <†>/h\eart.     O  que  há  no  coração12   What  lies  in14  my  heart   It'ʹs  one  of  those  fair  things     Mas  essas  coisas  lindas   But  those  beautiful  things   In  life  that  have  no  part.   Que  nunca  existirão…   Which  can  never  exist…         They  are  forms  without  form   Shape  without  shape  –  each  shape11     São  as  formas  sem  forma   Seems  silently  to  flit   Que  passam  sem  a  dor   Which  pass  before  sorrow   Ere  known  by  grief,  and  fade   As  possa  conhecer   Can  know  them   Ere  love  can  dream  of  it.   Ou  as  sonhar  o  amor.   Or  love  dream  of  them.         They  are  as  if  our  grief     São  como  se  a  tristeza   They  are  as  if  our  sadness   Were  a  dark  tree  from  whom     Fosse13  árvore  e,  uma  a  uma,   Were  a  tree,  that,  one  by  one,   They  flutter  leaf  by  leaf   Let’s  fall  its  leaves,   Caíssem  suas  folhas   Into  the  mist  and  gloom.   Between  the  vestige  and  the  mist.   Entre  o  vestígio  e  a  bruma.         The  vestige      What  I  feel  sorry  about  is  not      [→ What  saddens  me  is  not]   Something  that  lies  in  my  heart   But  those  beautiful  things   Which  will  never  exist.     They  are  forms  without  any  form   Which  are  gone  before  suffering   <Can  make  them  known  to  us>  Can  get  t<†>/o\  know  them   Or  love  is  able  to  dream  them.     It  is  as  if  sadness  <were  a  tree>   were  a  tree  that,  one  by  one,   Lets  fall  its  leaves  between   The  bare  trunk  and  the  mist.      The  original  displays  a  comma,  though  this  could  be  a  “55,”  given  the  previous  page  number.   10  “shade”  in  the  text  typed  by  Jennings,  probably  as  a  typo.   11  “coracão”  in  the  text  typed  by  Jennings—perhaps  due  to  a  lack  of  the  symbol  “ç”  on  the  author’s   keyboard;  we  also  added  all  tildes  and  stresses  in  the  transcription  of  this  poem.     12  “Fossa”  in  the  text  typed  by  Jennings,  as  a  typo.     13  “un”  in  the  text  typed  by  Jennings,  as  a  typo.     14 Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 342 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa II.  Unpublished.  Ten  numbered  pages  of  an  essay  titled  “Campbell  and  Pessoa,”  typed  by   Jennings   and   found   loose,   i.e.,   outside   the   folder   “Critical   Essays—E2”   which   Jennings   created  for  some  of  his  papers.  On  pp.  8  &  9,  this  text  studies  the  translation  of  the  same   Pessoan  poem  examined  by  Jennings  in  Document  I.  Datable  to  1968  or  later.       Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 343 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa       Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 344 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa       Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 345 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa       Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 346 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa       Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 347 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa       Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 348 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa       Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 349 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa       Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 350 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa       Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 351 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa       Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 352 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa   Campbell  and  Pessoa15     By  H.  D.  Jennings     It   is   one   of   the   odder   quirks   in   [↑of]   literary16  history   that   these   two   men,   undeniably   among   the   major   poets   of   this   century   and   yet   so   unlike   in   race,   appearance  and  outlook,  should  have  passed  their  boyhood  and  youth  in  the  same   city;  and  some  will  find  it  odder  still  [that]  that  city  should  be  Durban.    The  warm   and   humid   city   by   the   sea   has   its   attractions   for   businessmen   and   for   holidaymakers  but  few  would  envisage  it  as  a  nursery  for  poets,  though  there  have   always   been   some   (notably   Douglas   Livingstone   in   the   present   time)   to   give   that   impression  the  lie.   Roy  Campbell  who  was  born  there  in  1902  did  not  love  the  place  and  was  at   no  pains  to  hide  it.    He  speaks  (‘In  a  town  square’17)  of  ‘the  city  so  cheaply  fine  /  Its   walls   embalmed   its   fest<ive>[↑ered]   soul’,   and   ‘the   gh[↑a]stly   Cenotaph’   /   That   next  the  Lavatory  looms’…  ‘Where  blue-­‐‑burnished  angels  settle  /  Like  flies  upon  a   slab  of  tripe’  /  and  <finally  adds>  [,  to  sum  up,]  ‘the  mist’…  ‘The  subtle  anaesthetic   breath,  /  The  vengeful  sting  that  gives  [→no  pain  /]  But  deals  around  it  worse  than   death  /  The  palsied  soul,  the  mildewed  brain’.   Fernando   Pessoa   came   to   Durban   in   1896   at   the   age   of   seven   and   left   it   in   1905  when  he  was  seventeen  and  Roy  only  three.    (His  [Pessoa’s]  mother,  a  widow,   had   married   the   Portuguese   consul.)     What   his   impressions   of   the   place   were   we   do  not  know  for  only  twice  in  all  his  writings  does  the  word  ‘Durban’  occur  and   then   little   more   than   the   word   itself.18     But   this   is   not   unusual.     He   is   singularly   lacking   in   what   Armand   Guilbert   called   le   sens   du   paysage.     His   landscape   (as   he   himself  tell  us  in  a  prologue19  to  poem  Mensagem)  where  all  interior.20    But  he  was   not   unhappy   in   Durban   ‘owing,   perhaps,   to   the   climate   and   the   scholastic   discipline’   as   he   said   in   the   second   of   these   brief   mentions   of   the   town   which   I    Though  the  title  appears  on  all  pp.,  we  omit  its  repetitions  to  avoid  interrupting  the  text  flow.     15  “literaty”  in  the  text  typed  by  Jennings,  as  a  typo.     16  Here  we  reproduce  the  quotation  marks  (single  or  double)  as  used  by  Jennings.     17  This   affirmation   seems   to   date   the   essay   from   a   time   before   1984,   for   in   that   year   Jennings   published  Os  Dois  Exílios,  a  book  with  an  entire  chapter  (number  VIII)  dedicated  to  the  direct  and   indirect  presence  of  Durban  in  various  papers  found  in  the  Pessoa  archive.     18  This   is   likely   the   text   chosen   by   Maria   Aliete   Galhoz   to   serve   as   prologue   of   Mensagem,   in   Obra   Poética  de  Fernando  Pessoa  (Rio  de  Janeiro:  Aguilar,  1960);  titled  “Nota  Preliminar,”  the  prologue  was   not  included  by  Pessoa  in  his  1934  edition  of  Mensagem.   19  There  seems  to  be  a  faded  (and  redundant)  bracket  closing  the  parenthesis—which  we  omit  here.     20 Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 353 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa discovered21;   and   he   brought   back   with   him   to   Portugal   quite   a   <little>   hoard   of   little  <s>[↑a]rticles,  writings  and  other  little  boyhood  treasures,  silent  witnesses  to  a   busy   and   not   unpleasant   time.     We   know   too   that   his   first   years   on   his   return   to   Portuga<†>/l\   were   profoundly   unhappy,   reaching   a   point   in   June   1907   when   he   feared  he  would  lose  his  reason.    It  was  not  until  1908  that  he  began  to  put  down   roots  where  they  belonged,  his  native  soil  of  Portugal.  From  then  on  he  never  left   Lisbon,  or  had  any  desire  to  do  so.     [2] 22  Campbell   too   was   to   spend   little   time   in   Durban   after   his   school   education   was   over,   After   Oxford,   marriage   and   writing   the   ‘Flaming   <t>/T\errapin’23,  he  cam[→e]  back  in  1924  for  the  Voorslag  adventure,  but  left  after   two   years   and   then   was   seen   no   more   in   his   native   city   except   for   fleeting   and   infrequent   visits.     The   rest   of   the   time   was   spent   successively   in   Britain,   France,   Spain,  East  Africa  (during  the  war)  and  finally  Portugal.    Thus  both  Campbell  and   Pessoa   belong   to   that   vast   number   of   writers   who   suffered   (or   enjoyed)   transplantation  from  their  native  lands:  among  them  are:—the  Americans  Eliot  and   Pound  to  England;  the  Englishman  W.H.  Auden  to  America;  the  German  Rilke  to   France   and   Italy;   the   Irishmen   James   Joyce   and   Samuel   Beckett   to   Paris;   the   Frenchman  La  Forgue  to  Germany……  and  many  more.   There  are  other  superficial  resemblances  between  the  two  poets.    Both  came   from  conventional  middle-­‐‑class  families  and  both  forsook  the  comfortable  life  they   were   bought   up   in   to   follow   their   unremunerative   art   and   both   endured   equably   the   most   crushing   poverty   to   do   so.   Both   were   heavy   drinkers.     (Pessoa   died   of   cirrhosis   of   the   liver.)     Both   had   little   faith   in   democratic   government   and,   like   Yeats,  Pound  and  others,  had  some  hankering  after  autocratic  rule.    Both  men  had   (ostensibly,  at  least)  only  one  woman  in  their  lives.   But   even   as   I   write   these   things   my   sense   of   the   difference   between   these   two   men   widens.     Every   one   of   the   statements   given   above   requires   some   modification,   vital   to   the   proper   understanding   of   each.     Both   were   drinkers,   but   each  wore  his  rue  with  a  difference.    Campbell  stopped  when  he  was  composing  as   Alan  Paton  tells  us  (Contrast  37,  p.  64)  24.    Pessoa,  on  the  other  hand,  seems  to  have   needed  alcohol  as  a  spur  to  his  activities,  and  continued  to  write  poems  in  typical   lapidary  form  to  the  last  days  of  his  life  when  he  was  rapidly  drinking  himself  to    The   last   quote,   translated   by   Jennings,   comes   from   “a   fragment   in   French   purporting   to   be   a   report   of   a   medico   or   psychiatrist   on   a   patient   called   ‘P’   but   unmistakably   in   Fernando   Pessoa’s   writing”  (JENNINGS:  1986,  21);  the  original  was  “le  climat  (je  conjecture)  et  la  discipline  scolaire.”   21  Starting  on  p.  2,  the  author  numbered  each  page  on  its  top  margin;  we  indicate  the  original  page   numbers  within  brackets,  in  order  to  avoid  interrupting  the  text  flow.   22  A  75-­‐‑verse  poem  written  by  Campbell,  with  incipit  “How  often  have  I  lost  this  fervent  mood.”   23  Contrast,   South   African   Quarterly,   a   literary   journal   to   which   Jennings   contributed   essays,   poetry   and   fiction;   see,   also   in   this   issue,   the   review   by   G.   Haresnape   (former   editor   of   Contrast)   of   two   essays  by  Jennings.   24 Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 354 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa death.    The  importance  of  Mary  Campbell  in  Roy´s  life  and  the  crushing  effect  of   her   adventure   with   Vita   Sackville   West   has   been   too   well   described   by   Paton   to   need   further   mention   here.     It   took   Pessoa   precisely   one   year   to   discover   that   he   could   not   continue   with   his   work   as   a   writer   and   his   love   affair   with   the   young   typist  who  was  appropriately  named  Ophelia.    He  told  her  so.    The  two  remained   friends,   but   the   break   was   final.   Though   both   [↑poets]   came   from   families   of   the   same  social  standing—Pessoa  had  a  grandfather  and  an  uncle  who  were  generals   and   Campbell   had   a   father   and   two   brothers   who   were   respected   doctors— <g>/t\here   were   patent   differences.   A[→l]though   the   Pessoa   <coul>family   could   boas  armorial  bearings  with  eight  quarterings,  the  family  could  be  traced  back  to   the  Jew,  Sancho  Pessoa,  who  was  burned  at  the  stake  in  1708.    It  amused  Pessoa  as   much  as  it  would  have  horrified  Campbell  (not  the  burning  but  the  ‘race-­‐‑taint’25).     Campbell  made  much  [3]  in  his  first  autobiography  of  his  supposed  Scottish  blood.     The  Scots,  he  claimed  were  twice  the  men  that  the  English  were  because  they  had   ten  times  as  many  bastards.    When  later  he  discovered  that  he  stemmed  not  from  a   Scottish   laird   <b>but   from   an   Irish   fiddler,   he   took   it   with   commendable   good   humour  though  it  must  have  dis<†>/m\ayed  him,  particularly  in  view  of  the  low   illegitimacy  rate  in  Ireland.     In   this,   as   in   all   other   aspects   of   his   life   and   work,   Campbell   was   a   Romantic—both  in  its  ordinary  wide  sense  and  in  its  more  restricted  literary  sense.     He   chafed   at   the   thought   that   he   should   have   been   born   in   so   undistinguished   a   place   as   Durban,   ‘Where   I   alone   of   all   your   sons   am   known’.     He   rails   at   ‘his   humble  kinsfolk’:—       His  humble  kinsfolk  sicken  behold     The  monstrous  changeling  whom  they  schooled  in  vain   Who  brings  no  increase  to  their  hoard  of  gold…26         He   did   not,   however,   disdain   to   share   in   their   ‘hoard   of   gold’   and   indeed   would   not   have   been   able   to   continue   his   poetizing   without   the   aid,   which   he   received  from  them  [→(notably  from  his  brother  George)].     In   spite   of   his   disdain   for   his   native   city   and   his   contempt   for   his   fellow-­‐‑   practitioners   in   the   difficult   trade   he   had   chosen   (as   expressed   in   the   Wayzgoose)   Campbell  was  a  typical  South  African.    He  never  lost  his  accent,  which  Uys  Krige27   noted  with  surprise  when  he  met  him  in  southern  France,  was  ‘even  thicker  than   my  own’;  he  had  the  national  <bent  towards>  [↑hankering  after]  Kragdadigheid,  the   constant   striving   to   appear   larger   than   life,   the   turning   towards   some   anodyne,    The  author  missed  the  closing  single-­‐‑quote,  which  we  added  here.     25  This  quote  was  also  separated  in  the  original,  but  the  smaller  font  here  is  our  formatting;  note  that   the  quote  was  typed  over  a  faded  version  of  itself,  perhaps  due  to  the  tape  running  out  of  ink.   26  See  the  letters  from  Krige  to  Jennings,  introduced  by  S.  Helgesson,  also  in  this  issue.   27 Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 355 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa sport   or   some   other   violet   physical   activity   and   alcohol,   to   heal   the   emptiness   of   life  for  those  who  ask  too  much  or  too  little  of  it.   When   we   think   of   Pessoa   it   is   obvious   at   once   that   we   are   dealing   with   a   horse   of   a   d<n>/i\fferent   colour—one,   not   less   dark,   but   too   wise   (or   too   little   i<i>/n\terested)  to  try  to  throw  any  light  upon  himself.    Pessoa  was  reticent  about   his   personal   life   to   the   point   of   being   secretive.     In   one   of   the   Caeiro   poems   he28   wrote:  “If  anyone  should  seek  to  write  my  biography  /  Let  him  set  down  only  the   date   of   my   birth   and   of   my   death.   /   All   that   lies   between   is   mine.”   And   that,   in   effect,   is   all   that   prefaces   the   Ática29  edition   of   his   poems.     He   went   to   the   same   school  as  Campbell  but,  significantly[,]  under  a  different  headmaster.    The  austere   classical   scholar   Nicholas   of   his   day   was   something   other   that   the   rumbustious   Langley   of   the   following   decade   when   Campbell   was   there.     Pessoa   learned   to   speak   English   (as   one   of   his   schoolfellows   avers)   ‘in   the   most   academic   manner’   and  that,  indeed,  is  what  is  wrong  with  the  considerable  amount  of  English  poetry   he  wrote.30    He  showed  in  the  Thirty-­‐‑five  Sonnets  he  could  write  a  faultless  imitation   of  the  Tudor  style  and  manner,  but,  as  Campbell  said,  with  some  justice,  they  only   come  alive  when  translated  into  Portuguese;  and,  even  the  poems  in  modern  style31   tend   to   be   slightly   stilted.     His   English   prose,   however,   is   always   [4]   lucid   and   without   any   affectation.     He   seems   to   have   used   it   more   frequently   than   Portuguese   when   he   wanted   to   resolve   knotty   points   in   his   mind.     His   English   manners  and  dress  were  frequently  commented  on  by  his  contemporaries,  as  well   as   a   very   English   sense   of   the   absurd.   ‘Poeta  da  hora  absurda’,32  one   of   them   called   him.    It  was  not  for  nothing  that  in  the  three  brief  allusions  to  his  schooling  (always   laudatory) 33  he   spoke   only   of   his   ‘English’   and   never   of   his   ‘South   African’   education.   But  Pessoa  could  never  be  either  Eng<k>/l\ish  or  South  African.    He  was  a   Portuguese,  and,  moreover,  of  Jewish  descent.    He  found  it  odd,  he  tells  us,  that[,]   descended  originally  from  Jews  on  ‘all  four  sides’[,]  [↑he]  should  not  like  Jews  and   sometimes  be  almost  an  anti-­‐‑semite,  should  yet  remain  ‘morphologically  always  a   Jew’.    In  this,  as  well  as  the  other  few  brief  estimates  about  himself34 ,  Pessoa  made   no   mistake.     He   had   the   Jewish   capacity   to   endure   suffering—‘suffering   is   the      “hew”  in  the  text  typed  by  Jennings,  as  a  typo.     28  “Atica”,  unstressed,  in  the  text  typed  by  Jennings.   29  P.  Ferrari  &  C.  Pittella-­‐‑Leite  (2015)  have  argued  against  this  assessment  of  Pessoa’s  English  poetry.     30  There  was  a  comma  here  in  the  original,  which  we  removed.   31  Note  by  Jennings  (unless  indicated,  all  other  transcription  notes  are  from  the  editors):  Poet  of  the   absurd  moment.  ‘Hora  absurda’  (Absurd  time)  is  the  title  of  one  of  Pessoa´s  poems.   32  See  footnote  #18  about  later  findings  by  Jennings  that  would  partially  contradict  this  statement.     33  “himseld”  in  the  text  typed  by  Jennings,  as  a  typo.   34 Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 356 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa badge  of  all  our  tribe’—he  could  endure  patiently  neglect,  privation,  even  injustice   (‘I  accept  the  existence  of  injustice  as  I  do  that  of  a  stone’  he  wrote  in  another  of  the   Caeiro  poems)  but  he  could  on  occasion  flare  forth  with  messianic  fervour  like  any   prophet  of  old.35   Like   Campbell   he   stirred   up   some   hornets’   nests   but   usually   with   quite   opposite   motives   and   quite   different   objects.     When   Pessoa   launched   his   review   Orpheu   it   caused   more   stir   than   when   Campbell   and   his   associates   brought   out   Voorsla<f>/g\  in  Durban.36    It  is  hardly  an  exaggeration  to  say  that  the  critics  fairly   foamed   at   the   mouth.     It   was   not   because   they   were   treated   to   those   waspish   remarks  with  which  Campbell  and  others  stung  their  humbler  competitors  in  the   journalistic   trade,   it   was   because   it   was   so   new   in   its   outlook   that   it   left   them   perplexed  and  baffled  and  therefore  angry.    It  would  not  be  considered  outré  now,   but  it  was  then  in  1914,  particularly  for  Lisbon.    They  invented  a  new  adjective  for   it  rilhafolesca,  a  word  derived  from  Rilhafoles37,  the  name  of  a  well-­‐‑known  lunatic   asylum. 38     It   was   a   barbed   <missile>   [↑shaft]   for   it   was   known   that   Pessoa´s   grandmother  had  had  to  be  treated  there  for  dementia  senilis  just  before  her  death.     Lisbon   is   not   a   particularly   moral   city,   but   much   moral   indignation   was   poured   out  over  some  lines  in  the  Triumphal  Ode39  which  Pessoa  wrote  under  the  name  of   Álvaro40  de  Campos.         Ah,  the  common  and  dirty  people,  who  are  always  the  same,     [5]   Who  use  swearwords  with  every  breath,    Whose  sons  steal  at  the  doors  of  grocers’  shops   And  whose  daughters  of  eight  years  –  and  I  think  this  fine  and  love  it!  –     Masturbate  men  of  decent  appearance  on  deserted  stairways….     They   did   not   understand   this   poem   when   it   was   published   in   Lisbon   in   1914.     Neither   did   Campbell   when   he   translated   part   of   it   for   his   last   book,   Portugal,  in  1957.    He  calls  it  ‘the  loudest  poem  in  literary  history’,  and  marvels  that   Pessoa   could   conjure   out   of   himself   ‘a   thundering   great   extrovert’   like   Álvaro   de   Campos,   the   protagonist,   and   yet   in   other   phases   and   other   names   write   such   delicate  poems  ‘that  they  see<†>/m\  t<l>/o\  tremble  on  the  verge  of  silence’.    And,   let  me  confess  at  once,  neither  did  I  understand  the  Ode  until  I  read  Octavio  Paz´s    This   supposed   anti-­‐‑Semitism   attributed   to   Pessoa   has   to   be   put   in   context,   considering   the   extremely  complex  religious  attitudes  of  the  poet,  who  also  imbibed  mysticism  from  the  Cabbala.   35  Orpheu  had  two  numbers,  launched  in  Lisbon,  in  1915,  while  Voorslag  was  published  in  Durban,   in  1926  and  1927.   36  “Rilhofoles”  and  “rilhofolesca,”  both  as  typos,  in  the  text  typed  by  Jennings.   37  Orpheu  2  opened  with  poems  by  Ângelo  de  Lima,  who  was  interned  at  Rilhafoles.   38  Titled  in  Portuguese  “Ode  Triunfal,”  this  poem  was  first  published  in  Orpheu  1,  1915.   39  “Alvaro”,  always  unstressed,  in  the  text  typed  by  Jennings.   40 Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 357 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa brilliant   exegesis   (Pub.   1960)41.     Nor,   as   far   as   I   can   ascertain   did   anyone   else.     It   took  forty-­‐‑six  years  for  someone  to  read  the  riddle.   Briefly,  the  theme  is  this.    Álvaro  de  Campos,  the  half-­‐‑<j>/J\ewish  engineer,   is  standing  in  a  workshop  or  factory,  gritting  his  teeth  with  fury  and  delight  as  he   watches   the   machines   [→‘writhing   over   one   another]   like   lascivious   beasts   in   a   tropical   jungle’.     From   there   his   mind   wanders   forth   to   a   world   permeated   and   dominated  by  machines.    Machines  carrying  people  aimlessly  from  place  to  place;   machines  pouring  endless   yellowbacked   books,   machines  dealing  ou<†>/r\  death   on   land   and   sea   or   in   the   hands   of   the   sly   political   assassin;   machines   like42   ministers   concocting   false   budgets…..   And   so   he   goes   on,   <y>/t\wittering   and   chirping   with   enthuse<n>/i\asm   like   a   child   bringing   out   fresh   toys.     Then   on   to   the   human   products   of   the   god-­‐‑like   machines   and   he   brings   to   our   mind   the   scurrying  crowds  no  longer  moved  by  human  passions  and  desires  but  given  over   to   mindless   and   loveless   aberrations   and   substitutes.     So,   with   ostensible   delight,   he   points   out   the   pederast   who   passes   with   feline   step,   ‘the   over-­‐‑accentuated   presence  of  cocottes’  and  ‘the  playboys  and  harlots  in  the  crowded  car’  who  jeer  at   him  as  they  pass.    ‘Oh,  how  I  would  like  to  be  the  pimp  for  all  this!’43  he  exclaims.     And   in   another   place   he   would   like   to   peep   like   a   voyeur   into   every   house.     He   seems  the  workman  coming  home  from  his  hated  task  and  the  boys  and  girls  as  we   have   already   described.     All   a   world   indeed   given   over   to   ‘masochism   and   machinism’.    And  then  with  renewed  fury  of  longing  back  to  the  engines  until  he   imagines  he  has  become  a  part  of  them,  a  wheel  or  a  cog  or  some  other  whirling   part,  until  he  seems  to  have  lost  all  power  of  speech  and  the  poem  disintegrates  in   howls  and  shrieks  and  cries  of  ‘houp-­‐‑la’  like  a  circus  ringmaster  and  ends  finally  in   a  long  z-­‐‑z-­‐‑z-­‐‑z-­‐‑z-­‐‑z-­‐‑z.   It   was   a   lot   for   the   poor   Lisbonnese   to   stomach;   and   perhaps,   only   now,   when   we   have   seen   the   machines   proliferate   to   an   extent   undreamed   of   by   Pessoa—when  men’s  minds  are  dom<n>/i\nated  by  machine-­‐‑made  drama,  music,   and  news;  com<m>/p\uters  do  our  thinking  for  us  and  the  atom  numbs  all  thought   of  [6]  of  the  future—can  we  see  the  truth  of  Pessoa’s  wild  vision.   Certainly   Campbell   never   guessed   <;   yet>   [↑that]   when   he   fell   upon   the   lesbians  and  homosexuals  in  England  with  such  fury,  <he  did  not  realize>  he  was   castigating   the   end-­‐‑products   not   the   system   itself.  44     Eliot   looked   upon   the   same   spectacle   as   Pessoa   and   reacted   to   it   in   his   own   way   in   the   Waste   Land   and   Ash    Though  dated  1960  here,  this  is  probably  Paz’s  1962  landmark  anthology  of  Pessoa’s  poems.   41  “machine-­‐‑<l>/i\ke”,  with  the  “i”  superimposed  on  the  “l”  in  the  text  typed  by  Jennings.   42  Jennings  opens  the  quote  with  single  and  closes  it  with  double  quotation  marks.   43  Though  Jennings  here  is  criticizing  Campbell’s  prejudices,  Jennings’s  own  view  of  homosexuality   (as   a   product   of   a   system)   is   a   dated   theory;   G.   Monteiro   (1994:   130,   footnote   30)   also   presented   criticisms  to  Campbell’s  homophobia.   44 Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 358 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa Wednesday.     He   too   saw   beyond   the   persons   to   the   system   but   he   ascribed   it   to   a   different   cause—the   decline   in   spiritual   values.     He   does   not   seem   to   have   asked   what  may  have  cause  that  decline,  and  Pessoa’s  thesis  might  well  be  at  least  one  of   the  answers.   Pessoa  never  attacked  people45,  only  systems,  institutions  and  ideas,  and  so   stirred  up  some  of  the  hornets’  nests  already  mentioned.    He  attacked  the  Catholic   church  and  invented  a  faith  of  his  own;  he  defended  the  Free  Masons,  regarded  as   enemies   of   the   Church,   and   when   Antonio46  Botto,   a   fairly   harmless   homosexual   poet   was   denounced   with   fury   by   the   Lisbon   populace,   Pessoa   rushed   to   his   aid   but  in  measured47  dignified  words  without  personal  allusions.    Campbell  believed   (in   Portugal   again)   that   ‘the   miracle   of   Fátima 48  and   Sa<k>/l\azar   had   saved   Portugal’.     Pessoa   dislike[d]   both   but   he   wrote   nothing   scurrilous   about   either.49     The   inclination   ‘to   boast   and   to   shock   and   to   goad’   which   Paton   has   notices   in   Campbell   was   not   in   Pessoa;   and   in   passing   we   may   note   that   in   this   same   book   Portugal   performed   the   ‘<a>/l\most>[←almost]   virtuoso   feast   of   crowding   in<g>/t\o   a   single   paragraph   no   less   than   sixteen   lies   about   Uys   Krige’   as   Uys   himself  once  pointed  out  to  me.    And  the  two  had  been  close  friends!   But  all  this  is  digression;  and  [↑to]  get  <†>/b\ack  to  the  heart  of  the  matter   and   to   seek   further   in   the   distinction   which   lies   between   these   two   great   poets   (with  the  ultimate  hope,  perhaps  vain,  that  it  will  tell  us  something  of  the  secret  of   poetry  itself)  I  must  quote  two  more  poems.   The  first  shows  how  that  strange  thing  we  call  poetry—the  creative  power   or  the  Flaming  Terrapin50,  if  you  will—can  surge  out  of  our  being  (if  we  are  poets   or  creators)  and  drive  out  the  poor,  petty,  carping,  cowardly  creature  that  usually   reigns  there.     I  translate  from  a  letter  which  Pessoa  wrote  to  a  friend  in  February  1913.51            This   is   not   accurate,   as   Jennings   himself   would   later   discover   at   least   one   sonnet   written   by   Pessoa  (signed  by  Alexander  Search)  as  a  curse  on  Joseph  Chamberlain  (cf.  JENNINGS,  1984:  96);  to   date,  numerous  poems  mocking/attacking  specific  people  have  been  found  among  Pessoa’s  papers.   45  Antonio  [Botto]  is  misnamed  “Alfredo”  by  Jennings.   46  “inmeasured”,  without  space,  in  the  original.   47  “Fatima”,  unstressed,  in  the  text  typed  by  Jennings.   48  Scurrilous   texts   by   Pessoa,   insulting   both   Fátima   and   Salazar,   would   eventually   be   found   by   J.   Barreto;  cf.  «A  Poesia  Política  de  Fernando  Pessoa»,  in  Abril  7  (Niterói:  UFF,  Apr.  2015).   49  See  footnote  #23.   50  Jennings  is  translating  here  the  letter  from  Pessoa  to  Mário  Beirão,  dated  1  Feb.  1913;  cf.  PESSOA,  F.   Páginas  Íntimas  e  de  Auto-­‐‑Interpretação  (Lisbon:  Ática,  1966,  p.  29).   51 Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 359 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa You  kn<†>/o\w,  I  believe,  that  of  the  various  phobias  I  have  kept,  the  most  infantile  and  the   most  terribly  torturing  is  that  of  thunderstorms.    The  other  day  the  sky  threatened  rain  and   I   was   on   my   way   home   on   foot   there   being   no   tram   at   night.     In   the   end   there   was   no   thunder,  but  it  w[as]  imminent  and  it  began  to  rain—great  heavy  drops,  warm  and  spaced   out—and  I  was  still  only  halfway  from  the  Baixa  (the  business  quarter)  and  home.    I  hurried   along   with   the   pace   nearest   to   running   that   I   could   man[age]   [←as   near   to   running   as   I   could  master]  with  a  mental  torture  that  you  imagine,  all  upset  and  worried.    It  was  in  this   state   that   I   found   myself   composing   a   sonnet—I   finished   it   within   a   few   steps   of   my   home—a  sonnet  so  suave  and  calm  it  might  have  been  written  during  a  sunset  with  a  clear   sky.     [7]  This  is  the  poem.     ABDICAÇÃO52     Toma-­‐‑me,  Ó53  Noit<†>/e\  Eterna54,  nos  teus  braços   E  chama-­‐‑me  teu  filho.    Eu  sou  um  rei   Que  voluntariamente  abandonei   O  meu55  trono  de  sonhos  e  cansaços56.     <†>/Minha  espada\,  pesada  a  braços  lassos,   Em  mãos  viris  e  calmas  entreguei!   E  meu[←E  meu]  ceptro  e  coroa—eu  os  deixei   Na  antecâmara,  feitos  em  pedaços.     Minha  cota  de  malha,  tão  inútil,     Minhas  esporas  dum  tinir  tão  fútil—     Deixei-­‐‑as  pela  fria  escadaria57.   Despi  a  Realeza,  corpo  e  alma,     E  regressei  à58  Noite  antiga  e  calma   Como  a  paisagem  ao  morrer  do  dia.         Which  may  be  Englished  as  follows:—            Jennings   does   not   reproduce   the   orthography   used   by   Pessoa   on   doc.   BNP/E3,   58-­‐‑62v,   which   displays  the  sonnet  in  question  organized  in  4  stanzas  (Jennings  fuses  the  tercets  into  1  sestet).   52  “O”,  unstressed,  in  the  text  typed  by  Jennings.   53  “Eterno”  in  the  text  typed  by  Jennings,  as  a  typo.   54  “seu”   in   the   text   typed   by   Jennings,   who   appears   to   be   quoting   from   memory,   hence   the   divergences  from  the  original  text  by  Pessoa.   55  “consaço”,  as  a  typo.   56  “escadoria”,  as  a  typo.   57  The  text  typed  by  Jennings  is  missing  the  Portuguese  crase  (grave  stress).   58 Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 360 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa ABDICATION     Take  me,  O  Night  Eternal,  into  your  arms   And  call  me  you  child.    I  am  a  King   Who  of  his  own  free  will  has  given  up   His  throne  of  dreams  and  weariness.     My  sword,  too  heavy  for  my  tired  arms,   <Into  hands  more  virile  and  calm  I  <*delivered>/delegated\>                                                      [←I  placed  in  hands  more  virile  &  calm]   And  my  crown  and  sceptre—these  I  left   In  the  outer  chamber,  broken  in  pieces.     My  coat  of  mail,  no  longer  needed,   And  my  futile  jingling  spurs—   On  the  cold  steps  I  left  them.   Body  and  soul,  I  put  off  Reality   And  went  back  into  the  calm  and  ancient  Night   As  the  landscape  does  when  the  day  dies.     The   poem,   although   written   before   the   author   reached   full   maturity,   is   as   characteristic   of   Fernando   Pessoa   as   it   is   uncharacteristic   of   Roy   Campbell.     Roy   could  [↑well]  have  pictured  himself  as  a  king  <(or  why  should  he  have  been  called   by   a   name   that   means   king?)>   but   he   could   not   have   imagined   himself   as   a   frightened   rabbit   at   the   same   time;   nor   is   it   likely   that   he   would   have   heard   that   inward  voice  that  Pessoa  heard  telling  him  that  this  too  was  folly,  for,  in  time,  all   his  pretensions,  real  or  imaginary,  and  indeed  all  he  supposed  to  be  real,  would  be   swept   away   into   oblivion,   with   the   certainty   that   that   tempestuou[s]   evening   would  be  swallowed  up  in  [↑the]  night.    Roy  never  doubted  the  authenticity  [8]  of   Reality,  as  Pessoa  did,  even  as  a  boy  at  school.    Campbell  believed  that  the  world   was  real  and  that  he  was  born  to  cut  some  figure  in  it,  and  it  never  occurred  to  him   to   laugh   at   himself   for   thinking   so.     Our   delight   in   reading   him   (when   he   puts   aside   his   boasting   and   rhodomontade)   derives   from   the   sensuous   images,   which   though   put   together   with   skill   and   imagination   are   all   based   on   visible   tangible   things.     Too   often   in   the   intoxication   of   his   splendid   phrase-­‐‑making,   he   forgets   whatever   construction   he   had   in   mind.     Like   his   Albatross,   he   might   bracket   his   purpose  with  the  sun’s  but  he  sometimes  forgot  what  it  was  and  <find>  [↑found]   the  great  imperial  wings  on  which  he  had  set  out  ‘flapping  the  water  like  a  sodden   flag’.   In   Pessoa’s   work,   the   jewelled   quotable   phrases,   which   decorate   almost   every  line  of  Campbell’s  greater  work,  occur  but  rarely,  but  tight  construction  and   unity   of   design   are   usually   rigorously   followed,   but   seldom   apparent.     In   the   sonnet  just  quoted  every  word  falls  into  its  place  and  the  imagination  is  left  free  to   wander   over   what   Alan   Paton   calls   ‘concealed   meanings’;   in   this   case,   the   ‘antechamber’  and  the  ‘cold  steps’  which  suggest  the  vault  and  the  tomb,  and  the   Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 361 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa ‘unpoetic’   word   ‘landscape’   which   brings   out   the   unreality   of   what   he   sees—a   picture,   in   fact.     But   never   does   he   stop   to   explain,   comment   upon,   or   ‘prettify’   what  he  says.     Campbell  has  translated  several  of  the  poems  of  Pessoa,  for  whom  he  had  a   great  admiration,  but  with  this  difference  of  temperament  which  we  have  already   tried  to  describe  it  is  not  surprising  that  on  al  least  one  occasion  he  seems  to  have   missed  what  (to  me)  Pessoa  had  clearly  said.     The  thing  that  hurts  and  wrings   Was  never  in  my  heart.   It´s  one  of  those  fair  things   In  life  that  have  no  part.     Shapes  without  shape—each  shape   Seems  silently  to  flit     Ere  known  by  grief  and  fade   Ere  love  can  dream  of  it.     They  are  as  if  our  grief   Were  a  dark  tree  from  whom   They  flutter  leaf  by  leaf   Into  the  mist  and  gloom.     On  the  surface,  it  makes  rather  an  attractive  poem.    A  friend—a  Portuguese-­‐‑ American   professor—once   said   to   me   he   thought   it   was   better   than   the   original.   This  may  be,  but  it  is  not  what  Pessoa  said.    [9]  What  Pessoa  said  is  put  into  such   simple   language   that   anyone   with   some   knowledge   of   a   Romance   tongue   should   be  able  to  follow  it.    What  he  meant  may  take  a  little  more  thought  and  need  some   knowledge  of  Pessoa  and  his  contemporaries.     Here  is  the  original  with  a  literal  English  rendering  alongside  it.     O  que  me  dói  não  é   O  que  há  no  coração   Mas  essas  coisas  lindas   Que  nunca  existirão59.   What  grieves  me  is  not     What’s  in  my  heart   But  those  lovely  things   Which  will  never  exist.       São  as  formas  sem  forma   Que  passam  sem  que  a  dor   As  possa  conhecer   Ou  as  sonhar  o  amor.     They  are  forms  without  form   Which  go  before  sorrow   Can  get  to  know  them.   Or  love  dream  of  them.       São  como  se  a  tristeza     Fosse  árvore  e,  uma  a  uma,   Caíssem  suas  folhas   Entre  o  vestígio  e  a  bruma.   They  are  as  if  sadness     Were  a  tree  that,  one  by  one,   Lets  fall  its  leaves   Between  the  trunk  and  the  mist.      “existerão”  in  the  text  by  Jennings,  as  a  typo.   59 Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 362 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa or,  more  literally:—   Between  the  vestige  and  the  fog.     Seen,  as  above,  it  soon  becomes  clear  that  Campbell  has  taken  considerable   liberties  with  the  text  and  indeed  some  with  grammar  too  in  the  use  of  ‘have’  for   ‘has’  in  the  fourth  line  and  ‘whom’  for  ‘which’  in  the  tenth.    The  thing  that  hurts   and   <†>/wrings\’   is   obviously   an   over-­‐‑statement   and   moreover   gives   the   impression  that  the  speaker  is  not  one  to  nourish  resentment  or  some  other  bitter   feeling  in  is  heart,  and  from  the  two  following  lines  one  would  gather  he  is  rather   glad  about  it.    The  second  stanza  is  accurate  enough  but  the  reader  has  to  make  the   bewildering  change  from  the  one  thing  in  the  first  to  things  in  the  second60;  and  in   the   last   Campbell   leaves   out   all   mention   of   the   sad   trunk   that   is   left   when   the   leaves  have  fallen.     The   mistake,   I   believe,   is   based   on   a   fundamental   difference   in   temperament.    The  mind  of  <Pessoa>  Campbell  boggles  at  the  thought  of  anyone   being  able  to  love  things  that  do  not  exist  so  he  scamped  or  muddled  the  first  part   of   the   poem,   and   concentrated   on   the   visual   metaphor   that   follows   and   should   have  explained  it.    Pessoa,  as  we  have  seen  in  the  other  earlier  poem  quoted,  was   following   a   familiar   path.     One,   too,   as   I   discovered   quite   recently,   had   already   been  trodden  before  him.   Teixeira  de  Pascoaes  writes  in  Verbo  escuro  [→  (Dark  word)]  (pub.  1914):       Sing  what  does  not  exist.  The  rest  is  ashes.     <p3>(p.3)     And  the  later:  [→  (p.52)]      The  spirit  <looks  and  laughs>  [↑looks  askance]  at  the  intelligence  which  reason[→s]  [↑  and     mocks  it.]    It  lives  unmoved  in  the  antechamber  of  the  ideas.  They  fall  and  renew  [              ]  61      [10]  Here  we  have  that  ‘cross-­‐‑pollination  of  minds´  which  Laurens  van  der   Post   refers   to   (letter   in   Contrast   38).     It   is   a   process,   however,   that   can   only   take   place  when  flowers  and  minds  are  of  the  same  species.    Pessoa  takes  two  disparate   ideas   of   Pascoaes   and   grafts   them   upon   one   of   his   own   to   make   a   completely   original  rerendering.    The  kinship  between  the  two  minds  is  evident.    Both  men  are   preoccupied  with  the  search  for  something  beyond  the  superficial  appearances  of   everyday   life:   the   things   we   glimpse   when   sorrow,   sickness   or   the   exaltation   of   love  seem  to  lend  a  new  dimension  to  our  thoughts.     What   is   this   new   dimension?     It   is   something   that   does   not   belong   to   normal;  it  goes  beyond  reason  and  fringes  upon  the  realm  of  dreams  and  even  of    The  change  (from  a  singular  thing  to  the  plural)  seems  to  actually  take  place  in  the  third  stanza.   60  The  rest  of  this  quote  is  unreadable  in  the  facsimile  (with  its  bottom  margin  cut  short).   61 Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 363 Marques Jennings on the Trail of Pessoa madness.    It  is  the  quality  we  find  in  the  Walpurgisnacht  of  Goethe´s  Faust  and  the   utterances   Shakespeare   put   into   the   mouths   of   fools   and   madmen   because   they   went  beyond  our  normal62  reasoning;  they  are  what  makes  the  music  of  Beethoven   impossible  to  put  into  words.    They  are  things  in  our  normal  experience  which  will   never  exist.   Poetry,  like  all  other  arts,  is  the  expression  of  emotion,  but  emotion  cannot   be  expressed  in  words  which  are  the  expression  of  the  intelligence  which  is  foreign   to  it.    So,  reasons  Pessoa,  we  have  to  create  analogous  situations  to  hint  at  it.       Art,   for   me,   is   the   expression   of   a   thought   behind   the   emotion,   or   in   other   words,   of   a   general  <†>  truth  behind  a  particular  lie.     And  again:     All  true  emotion  is  a  lie  to  the  intelligence,  because  it  [is]63  not  by  that  that  it  manifest  itself.   All  true  emotion  is  in  consequence  false  exp[r]ession.    To  express  oneself  is  to  say  what  one   does  not  feel.    To  pretend  therefore  is  to  discover  oneself..[.]     A   little   later   in   the   century,   T.S.   Eliot   was   to   express   very   much   the   same   idea.        The   only   way   of   expressing   emotion   in   the   form   of   art   is   by   finding   an   ‘objective     correlative’;  in  other  words,  a  set  of  objects,  a  situation,  a  chain  of  events  which  shall  be  the   formula  of  that  particular  emotion.  (Tradition  and  the  individual  talent.  p.  124)     “I  must  wear  a  mask  before  I  can  express  the  truth,”  said  Oscar  Wilde.    And   so   it   must   be   for   all   creative   minds.     No   one   knew   the   truth   of   this   better   than   Fernando   Pessoa,   whose   name   is   only   another   form   of   the   old   Latin   word   for   a   mask—persona.     Is   that   finally   the   essential   difference   between   these   two   poets—that   Campbell  could  not  wear  a  mask,  or  when  he  did,  it  slipped?        “norjal”  in  the  text  typed  by  Jennings,  as  a  typo.   62  Something  seems  to  be  mistyped  or  missing  in  the  translated  quote.   63 Pessoa Plural: 8 (O./Fall 2015) 364