De laatste drie dagen van Fernando Pessoa

by Antonio Tabucchi

Nu de drank hem heeft geveld, ontvangt Fernando Pessoa zijn vrienden en literaire afsplitsingen aan zijn ziekenhuisbed. Hij wisselt met hen herinneringen uit, doet en aanhoort bekentenissen en deelt affectieverklaringen.

In 'De laatste drie dagen van Fernando Pessoa' beschrijft Antonio Tabucchi het levenseinde van Portugals grootste dichter. Het is een ontroerend verhaal over afscheid nemen, terugblikken en verzoenen met het leven. En tegelijk is het een reis langs vele plaatsen, personages, situaties en citaten uit Pessoa’s rijk geschakeerde oeuvre.

Genres: Fiction, Italy, Novels, Italian Literature, Portugal, Literature, Literary Fiction

70 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1992

About the author

Antonio Tabucchi was an Italian writer and academic who taught Portuguese language and literature at the University of Siena, Italy.

Deeply in love with Portugal, he was an expert, critic and translator of the works of the writer Fernando Pessoa from whom he drew the conceptions of saudade, of fiction and of the heteronyms. Tabucchi was first introduced to Pessoa's works in the 1960s when attending the Sorbonne. He was so charmed that, back in Italy, he attended a course of Portuguese language for a better comprehension of the poet.

Reviews

[Ilse · Rating 4 out of 5]

Living a thousand lives

And now it’s time to go, it’s time to leave this theater of images we call our life. Like a blazing cornet, I’ve traversed infinite nights, interstellar spaces of the imagination, voluptuousness and fear. I’ve been a man, a woman, and old person, a little girl, I’ve been the crowds on the grand boulevards of the capital cities of the Wet, I’ve been the serene Buddha of the East, whose calm and wisdom we envy. I’ve been myself and others, all the others that I could be. I’ve crossed rivers and impervious mountains, I’ve watched placid flocks, and I’ve felt the sun and rain on my head. I’ve been the cat that plays by the roadside, I’ve been the sun and the moon, and everything because life is not enough. But now I’ve had enough, dear Antonio Mora, living my life has been like living a thousand lives. I’m tired, my candle is burnt out. Please, hand me my eyeglasses.



Thursday 28, Friday 29 and Saturday 30 November 1935 were the last three days in the life of Fernando Pessoa (1888-1935), fictionalized in this novella of the Italian writer Antonio Tabucchi (1943-2012 ) . Blending a couple of biographic facts with imagination, the novella sets out when Pessoa is taken to the hospital by his friends in a taxi and in his delirious state is visited by his most important heteronyms (Álvaro de Campos, Bernardo Soares, Alberto Caeiro, Ricardo Reis, António Mora), the imaginary authorial personalities he gave birth to and into whose skin and voice he slipped into to write his poems.

For some, writing fiction, as the ability to live multiple lives, is not enough. Pessoa multiplied himself matchlessly, splitting his poetic persona into different creative personalities, each with their own biography, background and poetic style and register, managing to be many different poets at once – poets who also dialogue and intervene in Pessoa’s life. They visit Pessoa to clear out some misunderstandings and mystifications in their relationship with him and in their biographies – for instance Ricardo Reis admits he never went to Brazil but was just living hidden in a small village in Portugal - share memories and make confessions, offer apologies for causing insomnia, reflect on life lessons learned.



Dreamily, philosophical and tender, the narrative bears the distinctly erudite, playful and melancholic signature of Antonio Tabucchi. The novella is also a lovely farewell letter from Tabucchi to Pessoa, in which he just like the heteronyms who say goodbye to their creator, parts with the man whose work meant so much in Tabucchi’s life that he kept returning to him in his own work, for instance in the novel Requiem: A Hallucination which Tabucchi even wrote in Portuguese - in love with the country and the language – the language which to Tabucchi was ’a place of affection and reflection’.

This novella is a pearl both for Pessoa and Tabucchi aficionado’s, an invitation to read more of both of them and to discover the book that the translator mentions in the introduction, Mi riconosci a tribute of the Italian author Andrea Bajani to his mentor Tabucchi and a memorial to their friendship, while José Saramago’s The Year of the Death of Ricardo Reis beckons as well. The edition I read was a Dutch translation and came with a elucidating preface of the translator on both Pessoa and Tabucchi and a glossary explaining the characters, places and terms featuring in Tabucchi’s text.

I am nothing.
I'll never be anything.
I couldn't want to be something.
Apart from that, I have in me all the dreams in the world.

I cannot imagine words to bid farewell to life that are more moving.

[هدى يحيى · Rating 2 out of 5]

لقد كتبتُ من أجل البشر في هذا العالم‏
ووحده ببغاء يعرف ترديد أبياتي

هكذا أخبر بيسوا شاعر اللاطمأنينة وعبقري البرتغال نفسه في أيامه الأخيرة
كان مع أناه الأخرى التي تسمى ب-برناردو سواريس
وهي واحدة من كثيرين تقمصهم بيسوا ووضع شعره موقعا بأسمائهم

كان الببغاء يردد أبيات دكان التبغ المذهلة

عندما أردت نزع القناع
التصق بوجهي
عندما نظرت في المرآة كنت قد شخت
ثملا كنت ،لم أعد أعرف وضع القناع الذي لم أنزعه
طوحت به
وفي خزانة الثياب نمت
مثل كلب معتنى به
لكونه غير مؤذٍ

لسوف اكتب هذه الحكاية لأبرهن على نبلي !

;;;;;;;;;;;;;
بالنسبة لكتاب تابوكي فقد خاب أملي
فأنا توقعت الكثير وانتظرت قراءتها بفارغ الصبر‏

لم يعجبني شيئا في الكتاب‏
لا السرد ولا المشهدية ولا الحوار
لم أشعر حتى بروح بيسوا التي تنغمر فيها ما إن تقترب منها‏
بكل جمالها،،عبثها،،جنونها،،وعدميتها

لم أشعر بشىء على الإطلاق ‏
لاشيء وجدت له معنى أو طعما سوى اسم بيسوا نفسه
وهو الغال علي والمحبب إلى قلبي‏
والذي ما إن أراه على الورق إلا وشعرت بوخز
وتحركت عاطفة

ومع كل ذلك
لو أنني كنت قد قرأت مراجعة من شخص أثق به وبذائقته
لا يمدح في الرواية كحالي هنا‏

لم يكن ذلك ليثنيني أبدا عن قراءتها
فهذا الكتاب للمهتمين ببيسوا والمغرمين بعبقريته

إذن..‏
اقرأه فربما تجد فيه ما لم أجد

وتحية من أعماق القلب لبيسوا‏
ولتسبح روحه في سلام أبدي
وطمأنينة لم يجدها في حياته

[Flo · Rating 4 out of 5]

With such a lack of people with whom to coexist, as there is today, what can a man of sensitivity do, but invent his friends, or at least, his companions in spirit?

*

Com uma tal falta de gente coexistível, como há hoje, que pode um homem de sensibilidade fazer senão inventar os seus amigos, ou quando menos, os seus companheiros de espírito?

—Fernando Pessoa, Obras de António Mora. Edição Crítica das Obras de Fernando Pessoa

Ode to dreams and coffee

On the night of the twenty-second of February in 2021, the Reviewer, reader and nothing else, had a dream. She dreamed it was a torrid summer day and that she was at a café. The café, one of the oldest in the city, was replete with distinguished people who made the Reviewer felt rather intimidated. She was reading a book and having a strong espresso to face the day. She relied on that daily cup to start the morning almost too much. That caffeine kick that gets you through each day—some people can’t even do that.



In one corner, she thought she saw Daedalus, architect and aviator, speaking about a dream he had thousand of years ago, at a time impossible to calculate exactly. He was talking about it with Cecco Angioliere, poet and blasphemer, who, living up to his reputation, was bitterly taking big sips of Turkish coffee since he couldn’t wait for his turn to speak about the dream he had one night in January 1309.

Sitting behind the Reviewer was François Villon, poet and malefactor, discussing a dream he had on Christmas dawn in 1451, accompanied by his compatriot Arthur Rimbaud, poet and vagabond. The sense of kinship between them was instantaneous. They were both having Irish coffee and kept chatting about their otherworldly visions for hours.

As the Reviewer was trying to get the waiter’s attention to pay the bill, she spotted François Rabelais, writer and former friar, walking out of the kitchen. He was holding a cup of pitch-black coffee and talking with one of the cooks about a dream he had one night in February 1532, featuring two perpetually famished giants.

On a table by the window, the Reviewer saw Samuel Taylor Coleridge, poet and opium-eater, enjoying a caffè mocha with Claude-Achille Debussy, musician and aesthete, who was having an oxymoron—decaf coffee—and, for some reason, kept tapping his right foot on the black-and-white checkerboard floor. It looked like a most interesting reunion so the Reviewer started to read their lips, her area of expertise. Samuel Taylor Coleridge began talking about a dream he had one night in November 1801. His use of language, so elegant and evocative, captivated Debussy completely. So much so, that he barely discussed the dream he had the night of June 29, 1893, thinking that being aroused by fauns and nymphs wasn’t aesthetically pleasing and that if Sigmund Freud—interpreter of other people’s dreams, who was seated at an adjacent table—listened to him, the session would be beyond all bearing.



The list went on and on. So many personalities who had excelled at various disciplines. So much talent, charm, good fortune and tragedy. Several centuries combined in one single afternoon.
By sunset, the waiters announced the café was closing, so they gently invited the clients to leave their sits and come back tomorrow. The Reviewer left the building and sat on a bench across the street. She discerned a shadow approaching one of the windows. Despite the dim light, she caught a glimpse of a man closing the curtains.

Well then, said Caeiro, when you were awakened during the night by an unknown master who was dictating his poems, speaking to you about the soul, you should know, then, that I was that master. It was I who put myself in contact with you from the Beyond.
I guessed as much, said Pessoa, my beloved Master, I guessed it was you.
But I must beg your pardon for having brought you so much insomnia, said Caeiro, night after night in which you didn’t sleep and wrote as if in a trance. I regret having caused you so much trouble, for inhabiting your soul.
You contributed to my work, answered Pessoa, you guided my hand. You brought me insomnia, it’s true, but those were fertile nights for me, and my literary work was born in the night. My work is nocturnal work.
(November 28, 1935)

It was Fernando Pessoa, poet and pretender, who didn’t talk about the dream he had on the night of March 7, 1914, since he could no longer share his dreams with his only love, Ophélia—neglected, wounded Ophélia. A victim of art. The fall of the idols.
Yes, Fernando Pessoa, the one who would have his last three days on Earth unraveled by another writer—someone who knew the world of dreams and hallucinations like the palm of his hand. Palm-of-the-hand dreams.

After a typical 5-hour sleep period, the Reviewer woke up and noticed the smell of freshly brewed coffee.




March/May 2021
* Credit: Photo 1, Photo 2, Photo 3
** Later on my blog.

[Nasrin M · Rating 3 out of 5]

زندگی، یک دیوانگیست، و تو هم خوب می‌دانی که چطور باید با آن کنار بیایی...

••••

من نه یک بار، بلکه هزار بار زندگی کرده‌ام .
دیگر خسته‌ام، شمعی سوخته‌ام،
لطفا عینکم را بدهید...

[Marc Lamot · Rating 3 out of 5]

That the Italian writer Tabucchi (1943-2002) was obsessed with the Portuguese Fernando Pessoa is an open door. In this booklet (I only read The Last Three Days...) Tabucchi imagines that Pessoa, in the last three days of his life that he actually spent in a hospital, meets his heteronyms and enters into dialogue with them. The book is short and simple, and the conversations are no more than finger exercises, culminating in a fiery farewell speech by Pessoa. Nice, without more, interesting especially for Pessoa-afficionados. Note: Tabucchi wrote this in Italian, while most of his later works are written directly in Portuguese.

[Argos · Rating 5 out of 5]

Fernando Pessoa’nın “Huzursuzluğun Kitabı”nda rastladığımız takma adlarının ve gizemli kimliklerinin hastalığının son üç gününde Pessoa’yı hastane odasında ziyaret edip konuşmalarını kurguluyan, çok sevimli adeta bir tiyatro sahnesi. Alvare de Campos, Alberto Caeiro, Ricardo Reis, Bernardo Soares dersem kitabı okuyanlar hemen hatırlayacaktır. Minicik boyutta , kısacık bir solukta okunan ve Pessoa’yı okumayanların bile ilgisini çekeceğini zannettiğim bir kitapçık. Antonio Tabucchi çok başarılı.

[Jeroen Vandenbossche · Rating 3 out of 5]

Bellissimo e talvolta commovente omaggio a uno dei poeti più affascinanti del Novecento; non di meno ma anche non di più.

Questo è un libro per gli appassionati dell'opera di Pessoa e presuppone una certa conoscenza preliminare.

“Sono stato uomo, donna, vecchio, bambina, sono stato la folla dei grandi boulevards delle capitali dell’Occidente, sono stato il placido Buddha dell’Oriente del quale invidiamo la calma e la saggezza, sono stato me stesso e gli altri, tutti gli altri che poteva essere (…) ho ricevuto sul capo il sole e la pioggia, sono stato femmina in calore, sono stato il gatto che gioca per strada, sono stato sole e luna, e tutto perché la vita non basta. Ma ora basta, mio caro António Mora, vivere la mia vita è stato vivere mille vite, sono stanco, la mia candela si è consumata, la prego, mi dia i miei occhiali.”

[Teresa · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Não digas nada!
Não, nem a verdade!
Há tanta suavidade
Em nada se dizer
E tudo se entender —
Tudo metade
De sentir e de ver...
Não digas nada!
Deixa esquecer."
— Fernando Pessoa

"Falaram-me os homens em humanidade,
Mas eu nunca vi homens nem vi humanidade.
Vi vários homens assombrosamente diferentes entre si.
Cada um separado do outro por um espaço sem homens."
— Alberto Caeiro

"Amigos, nenhum. Só uns conhecidos que julgam que simpatizam comigo e teriam talvez pena se um comboio me passasse por cima e o enterro fosse em dia de chuva."
— Bernardo Soares

"Grandes são os desertos e tudo é deserto,
Salvo erro, naturalmente.
Pobre da alma humana com oásis só no deserto ao lado!"
— Álvaro de Campos

"Segue o teu destino,
Rega as tuas plantas,
Ama as tuas rosas.
O resto é a sombra
De árvores alheias."
— Ricardo Reis

"Os deuses são o fruto do ingénuo espanto humano ante a assombrosa realidade das coisas."
— António Mora

"Alegra-me às vezes passageiramente pensar que hei-de morrer
E serei encerrado num caixão de pau cheirando a resina
O meu corpo há-de derreter-se para líquidos espantosos
As feições desfar-se-ão em vários podres coloridos
E irá aparecendo a caveira ridícula por baixo
Muito suja e muito cansada a pestanejar"
— Coelho Pacheco

[صان · Rating 5 out of 5]

یک شاهکار جیبی و جمع‌وجور!
روایت سه روز پایانی یک شاعر پرتغالی با تمام جزئی‌نگری‌های یک نویسنده ایتالیایی! نمی‌شه ازش لذت نبرد و تصورش نکرد.
بار دیگه به جادوی قلم تابوکی ایمان اوردم.

کتاب دیگه‌ای که از تابوکی باید خوند، <<شب‌های هند>> هست.

[Eddie Watkins · Rating 3 out of 5]

After the weekend excitement, back to the reviewing grind.

Dreams of Dreams is a collection of fictional dreams of actual historical figures dreamed up for them by Antonio Tabucchi. Some of those included are Daedalus (mythical not actual I guess), Ovid, Rimbaud, Pessoa, and Freud. It's a clever idea handled with economy, sweetness, romance, and grace, but none of it is really that insightful, that is if you're familiar with the basic bios of the figures covered. The dreams are basically reworkings of actual events in the figures' lives often interwoven with events from their novels and poems and paintings then manipulated slightly so to seem dream-like. Though there is a selfless humility and utmost respect involved on the part of Tabucchi that can be mentally clarifying for the reader, as it feels like pure Italian spring water passing easily through one's brain.

The Last Three Days of Fernando Pessoa I found more interesting, though the conception is similar; and once again there's nothing too insightful or original involved, though if you're not familiar with Pessoa you might find it puzzling and mysterious. As Pessoa spends the last three days of his life in the hospital there is a homecoming of sorts for a few of his heteronyms. The heteronyms arriving from distant places and times to sort of reunify with Pessoa. Once again Tabucchi essentially dissolves himself into the subject (becoming almost one of the homecoming heteronyms himself) and lets it speak clearly for itself. More brain water.

[mai ahmd · Rating 3 out of 5]

مالم تكون مفتونا بعالم بيسوا فلا أنصحك بأن تمد يديك لهذا الكتاب
تابوكي أديب إيطالي ومحاضر للغة ترجم أعمال بيسوا كلها لللإيطالية وكان ممن أثارهم أدب بيسوا فكتب هذه الحوارات المتخيلة لوجوه بيسوا الأخرى مع وجهه الحقيقي وذلك في فترة الثلاث أيام الأخيرة من حياة بيسوا
يلزمك أن تعرف هذه الشخصيات وما تقدمه من إشارات لكي تستطيع أن تستوعب فكرة النص خاصة وأن هذه الشخصيات هي بيسوا بوجوهه المختلفة وذلك حسب قراءة المؤلف


النص لا يزيد عن أربعين صفحة سبقتها مقدمة أغلب الظن إنها للمترجم
والمقدمة بحد ذاتها فاتنة للغاية تقدم الكاتب وعلاقته بالشاعر
وهنا حوار ماتع جدا للمؤلف الإيطالي الذي وقع في هوى البرتغال
وشاعرها العظيم فرناندو بيسوا


http://www.diwanalarab.com/spip.php?a...

[Paula Mota · Rating 4 out of 5]

“28 de Novembro de 1935
A minha vida foi mais forte do que eu”

E nestes três últimos dias de vida, internado num hospital devido a uma cirrose, Pessoa é visitado pelos seus outros eus. Uma bela homenagem de Antonio Tabucchi.

[Nickolas B. · Rating 3 out of 5]

Υπέροχος ο λόγος του Ταμπούκι, άλλη μια φορά αλλά χρειάζεται εξοικείωση με το έργο του Πεσσόα ο αναγνώστης για να εμβαθύνει στο κείμενο.
Εγώ δεν έχω! :)

[Azheen Bajalan · Rating 2 out of 5]

اعشق بيسوا
و احب ترجمات اسكندر حبش
لكن هذه الرواية عندما أنهيتها تسألت مع نفسي ماذا قدمت لي ؟
ماهو الجديد الذي لم أكن اعلمه عن بيسوا !!
لا شيء.

[فهد الفهد · Rating 3 out of 5]

هذيان، أيام فرناندو بيسووا الثلاثة الأخيرة

أول قراءة لتابوكي، خصص تابوكي هذه الرواية الصغيرة جداً، لكاتبه المفضل فرناندو بيسووا، وهو الأديب البرتغالي الذي أثر على جيل كامل من الكتاب والشعراء، وتميز بتعدد الشخصيات التي اخترعها وكتب تحتها، ليس كاسم قلمي فقط، فهو كان يمنح لكل شخصية تاريخاً وصفات تميزها.

يتخيل تابوكي بيسووا في أيامه الثلاثة الأخيرة على فراش احتضاره، تزوره شخصياته التي اخترعها وتتحدث معه تباعاً.

[Nahed.E · Rating 3 out of 5]

عودة إلي فيرناندو بيسوا



هذا الرائع المُتعب دائماً .. الذي ..
يحيا وينسي أن يحيا .. فقط يتعايش في قلق وحيرة واضطراب ..
فلا شئ يمر هكذا .. ولا يوم ينتهي كما بدأ .. هناك دائماً شئ ما يسكن الأعماق .. ودائماً يطفو الهذيان علي السطح ..

شئ صعب للغاية أن تصبح حياتك كلها كصفحة المياة التي لا يُكتب لها الاستقرار ابداً !
فهناك دائماً مئآت الأحجار التي تٌلقي من كل حدب وصوب ..

هكذا أراك عزيزي بيسوا ..
فلقد أتعبتني معك طوال كل قراءآتي لك .. ولكني أحببت تعبك رغم كل شئ ..

لا ألومك علي شئ .. ولا أبحث في كتبك عن شئ سوي القراءة لك وعنك ..

فهنا في هذا الكتاب تخيل المؤلف حياتك في أيامك الأخيرة .. وكم كان بارعاً في الوصف ..
وتخيلت أنا معه الوجوه التي لازمتك في أيام مرضك .. وحديثك الهادئ العميق مع نفسك ومع الأخرين ..


بيسوا ..
مازلت مُعذبي المفضل ..
ولا أعتقد انني سأتعب من تعبك يوماً ما
..

[Tariq Alferis · Rating 1 out of 5]

.‎لستُ شيئا.
‎لن أكون شيئا يوما.
‎لا أقدر أن أشاء ألا أكون شيئا.
‎باستثناء ذلك، أحمل فيّ كل أحلام العالم.
.
.
‎قرأت أغلب كُتب تابوكي، وكُنت استغرب كيف لكاتب أمضى أغلب حياته في
‎ البحث والترجمة أشعار بيسوا أن لايكتب عنه كتاب واحد من المعروف عن أنطونيو انّ حياته قد تغيرت عندما قرأ قصيدة مكتب التبغ لبيسوا وبسبب
‎تلك القصيدة تحول أنطونيو من إيطالي الأصل إلى برتغالي الهوى‫..‬
‎الحقيقة وقعت في فخ عدم معرفة أي شيء عن بيسوا أو بالآحري لم أقرأ من قبل لبيسوا باستثناء بعض القصائد المُترجمة على النت‫…‬هُنا تابوكي يتحدث عن أيام بيسوا الأخيرة وهو يحاور شخصياته الشعرية‫..‬فمن لم يقرأ لبيسوا ولايعرف شيء عن شخصياته الكثيرة لن يفهم الكتاب‫..

[*nawaf · Rating 3 out of 5]

من فوائد الرواية المقدمة التي وضعها المترجم اسكندر حبش والتي تجاوزت ثلث الكتاب للتعريف بالكاتب أنطونيو تابوكي والظروف السياسية التي أحاطت به وأعماله وبالأخص رائعته بيريرا يدعي ، وبالعودة إلى الرواية فرغم قصرها لعلها تكون فاتحة مشجعة لدخول عالم بيسووا فهي رواية مركزة على الأيام الثلاثة الأخيرة له قبل موته مع لمحات للأحداث والأشخاص الذين أثروا عليه.

[Cathérine · Rating 4 out of 5]

3 1/2*

[Eylül Görmüş · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Öyle demeyin, diye karşılık verdi Bernando Soares, gün gelecek yüce bir ruha sahip bütün insanlar dizelerinizi bütün dillerde ezbere bilecekler, hem ayrıca Sebastiao'da insan ruhu var, papağan değil o, kâhin, onda Pythia'nın ruhunun yaşadığından eminim, geleceği önceden sezdiğini duyumsuyorum."

İtalyan yazar Antonio Tabucchi ile tanışma kitabım oldu Fernando Pessoa'nın Son Üç Günü. Kendisinin edebiyatını doğru yansıtan bir metin değil şüphesiz zira meselesi tamamen Pessoa ama Tabucchi'nin de Pessoa'dan epey etkilendiğini biliyoruz, dolayısıyla neden olmasın dedim ve bu minik novellayı aldım elime.

Çok tatlı, çok hüzünlü bir metin bu. Adından anlaşılacağı gibi Fernando Pessoa'nın son üç gününü hayal ediyor yazar. Karaciğeri artık iflas eden Pessoa hastaneye yatıyor ve o son üç günde yarattığı heteronimler kendisini ziyaret ediyorlar.

Pessoa'nın her biri ayrı birer hayat hikayesine sahip, her biri bir sebeple ortaya çıkmış heteronimleri malumunuz. Bazı metinlerini sadece o heteronimlerin yazabileceğini söylüyor kendisi de, onlar o yüzden varlar. Yazarın bu çoklu kişilikleri edebiyata çok ilham verdi, vermeye devam ediyor. Bu heteronimlerin başka edebiyat eserlerinde karşımıza çıktığına çok şahit oluyoruz ki ben bunun Pessoa'nın anısına saygı göstermenin çok incelikli ve asil bir yolu olduğunu düşünüyorum.

İşte burada da o heteronimler birer birer beliriyor, Pessoa ile vedalaşıyorlar. Aralarındaki veda diyalogları çok güzel yazılmış, hem her birinin öyküsünü kısaca dinliyoruz, hem de Pessoa'nın dünyasında neyi temsil ettiklerini öğreniyoruz.

Yazarlar ölür, geride eserleri kalır. Peki Pessoa gibi istisnai bir figür ölünce onun kendinden doğurduğu diğer yazarlara ne olur, ölür mü onlar da? Bu soru üzerinden yola çıkan çok nazik bir minik novella bu. Çok severek okudum. 🧡

[Hakan · Rating 3 out of 5]

Pessoa meraklılarına ilginç gelebilecek, bu müthiş, benzersiz ve de çılgın Portekizli yazar için yazılmış, Pessoa’nın hayali karakterlerinin adeta resmi geçit yaptığı kısa bir ağıt, güzelleme.

[Gokce Atac · Rating 4 out of 5]

Edebi bir vedanın hüzünlü ve büyüleyici tiyatral anlatısı…
Huzursuzluğun Kitabı bu seneki okuma listemde öncesinde okumak iyi geldi…

[نوري · Rating 4 out of 5]

ولتكن أرواح شخصياتي - التي تحلم الآن في الطرف الآخر - حليمة بالممثل البئيس لخلودهم.
- طابوكي


يبتدأ أنطوني طابوكي قائلا بأن هؤلاء الفنانين الذي سيتم ذكرهم في الكتاب لم يتركوا مساراتهم الليلية لأرواحهم، ومن هنا أنطلق في ملىء ذلك الفراغ الذي إرتآه والذي سماه "ترميمات بعيدة الإحتمال" لإستكمال المشهد بين المُتلقي والفنان في أحلام من أعظم ما تكون.


‏أنا كل الآخرين، وربما لا أحد.
أنا الآخر الذي لا يعرفُ من أنا،
الذي نظر إلى ذاك الحلم الآخر، إلى يقظتي.
- بورخيس

[SergioEavesDropping · Rating 5 out of 5]

El señor Manacés, Carlos Eugénio Moittinho De Almeida, Coelho Pacheco, Álvaro de Campos, Alberto Caeiro, Ricardo Reis, Bernardo Soares, António Mora y ❤️ Fernando Pessoa ❤️.

[Ana · Rating 4 out of 5]

Só tenho encontrado espíritos e delírios no que leio. E gosto!

[Jane · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a perfect book to have on one's bedside table. The dreams Tabucchi has constructed for various writers and other historical figures (including Freud) can be read as discrete pieces if one needs to nod off. Which is why this was on my Currently Reading shelf for so long. These are delightfully fantastic (in the sense of "conceived by unrestrained fancy"). The dream for poet Giacomo Leopardi was particularly charming, including a [pastry alert!] description of a bakery on the moon. Also part of this edition is Tabucchi's imagination of what the last days of the his hero and focus of scholarship, Portuguese poet Fernando Pessoa, might have been like. Of course he can't resist bringing in a few of Pessoa's 70 literary alter egos (check it out!) to make bedside visits. I only wish more of Tabucchi's work was in English translation.

[Ahmed Oraby · Rating 3 out of 5]

قرأتها بترجمة إسكندر حبش، واكتشفت أثناء القراءة أن سبق لي قراءتها من قبل بترجمة رشيد وختي باسم أحلام أحلام ضمن عدة أحلام أخرى وهذيانات أخرى لبيسوا العزيز
القصة مسبوقة بمقدمة حوالي الخمسين صفحة لإسكندر حبش يحكي فيها عن تابوكي وقليلًا عن بيسوا، ومقدمته كانت ولا أروع حقيقة فسرد الخلافات الفكرية التي خاضها تابوكي مع أقرانه من كبار الأدب في إيطاليا، خلافات فكرية وأخرى سياسية وبعضها أدبية
تبدأ القصة ببيسوا وهو على موعد مع زيارة إلى طبيب لا يرغب إتمامها بحال، ويذهب مضطرا للتأكد من صحته ليجد نفسه مجبورًا على البقاء بالمشفى، حيث سيقابل فيها أحبابه - أشباحه - للمرة الأخيرة ويتناقشون باحتدام أحيانًا حول الحياة والموت والحب والفناء
أحلام جميلة، وتعبير تابوكي عن شخصيات وأفكار بيسوا جعلاني أشك كثيرًا في كوني أقرأ لبيسوا لا له

[Tuck · Rating 4 out of 5]

what a show off! we should all be so lucky, smart, assured to show off like this though. A real show off of a book, but one can get the news from it, or at least the history news. Has a cast of thousands, daedalus, Rabelais, Caravaggio, r l Stevenson, Debussy, Garcia Lorca, pessoa of course, and many many more.
With dreams of each, and a novella of the last 3 days of pessoa and a nice “cast of characters” at the very end to explain who some of the characters in the book/dreams were, like Ricarod Reis, doctor, poet, exile. Etc
city lights publishers are like the west coast version of dalkey archives

[Renklikalem · Rating 4 out of 5]

“…sözcükleri tuval boyayan fırçalar gibi kullandım, paletim de Lizbon’un tansökümü ve günbatımıydı.”

Üç refakatçi, üç gün. Tabucchi’nin Pessoa’ya saygı duruşu bitmiyor. Yine damıtılmış, minicik fakat doyumluk bir eser. Daha önce Requiem: Bir Sanrı kitabı ile Lizbon sokaklarında hiç adını geçirmeden Pessoa olduğunu anlattığı biriyle buluşmasını anlatmıştı. Bu sefer de bize Pessoa’nın hastane yatağındaki son üç gününü anlatıyor. Yarı biyografik yarı kurgu. Yarı Tabucchi yarı Pessoa. İki sevdiğim bir arada. Yine Münir Göle’nin nefis çevirisiyle.

“Çünkü yaşam bir deliliktir. Sen de deliliğin nasıl yaşanacağını öğreneceksin.”

[أحمد شاكر · Rating 4 out of 5]

جميل هو بيسووا، وجميل أن تعرف أي شيء عن حياة هذا الشاعر الغريب، وأيامه الثلاثة الأخيرة.