Jose Gomes Ferreira's "blog"

A miserable November Sunday and I sit down to write my blog. I’m struck by a book by José Gomes Ferreira, a writer and poet from Porto (1900 - 1985). Generally his writing is a struggle for (world) justice. It’s a sort of dialectic both between realistic and unrealistic ideas and between his individualist tendencies and a deep empathy to other people’s suffering. I relate to him.

This book of his I’ve been reading (“Imitação dos dias”, 1977) looks remarkably like a blog with its subject headers and short entries. It’s a mix of musings and reflections for a large audience. He begins the book with a short subtitle: “Escrevam aqui a data que quiserem. Por exemplo: 9 de Janeiro de 2467 … Sonho viver até lá”. Write here the date that you want. For example: 9th January 2467 … I dream of living until then. It goes like this (suggestions/corrections to my translations welcome):

Domingo opaco. Dreary Sunday. A chuva tamborila com dedos de violência branda no quadrado cinzento da janela…The rain taps with fingers of soft violence on the grey windowframe.

E, de súbito, acode-me este desejo (que, na realidade, trazia há anos na cabeça): inventar um Diário à vista do público. Falso, mentiroso, impostor – verdadeiro, em suma. And, suddenly, I get an urge (that, in reality, has been in my head for years): to invent a Diary open to the public. False, lying, deceiving – in sum, the truth.

Um livro sabiamente doseado de sobra e luz, com serpents e andorinhas, confissões abertas (mas prudentes), escândalos (afinal comedidos), aqui o inevitável fio de fonte lírica, mais adiante duas ou três brutalidades de rasgar cues. A book wisely dosed with shade and light, with snakes and swallows, open (but cautious) confessions, scandals (comedies after all) … Sem falar nas mentirolas habituais, dispostas com engenho de grosseria subtil, para que me engrandeçam perante a posteriadade (que nunca me lerá). Without talking in those usual white lies, handed out with the ingeniousness of subtle impoliteness so that I will be known for ever (but never read).