Poet Adília Lopes dies at 64 in Lisbon

Adília Lopes, a key figure in contemporary Portuguese poetry, died this Monday evening at the Hospital de São José in Lisbon, the victim of a long illness.

Adília Lopes

What?

Adília Lopes, the celebrated Portuguese poet, passed away on Monday at the age of 64, according to a statement from her publisher, Assírio & Alvim.

Adília Lopes was the pen name of Maria José da Silva Viana Fidalgo de Oliveira, born in Lisbon on April 20, 1960. Known for her poetic innovation and candid exploration of mental health, her legacy leaves a profound impact on Portuguese literature.

Few were indifferent to her poetic register, somewhere between the apparently ‘naïve’ and the prosaic, but which also included the most varied literary and philosophical reminiscences.

Weather Report

God didn’t give me
a boyfriend
he gave me
the white martyrdom
of doing without one

I’ve known some potential
boyfriends
they were swine
they were elephants
and me pearls
and crystal

You don’t want me
you never did
(why, for God’s sake?)

Life
is free
and the book
isn’t free

I cry
it rains
but that’s
Verlaine

Or:
such a beautiful
day
and I’m not
fornicating
© Translation: 2005, Richard Zenith

Early Life and Literary Genesis

Adília adopted her pseudonym after penning a poem about the disappearance of her cat, Faruk, as recounted in an interview with journalist Carlos Vaz Marques.

She began her academic journey studying Physics at the University of Lisbon but shifted her focus to Portuguese and French Literature and Linguistics in the early 1980s after being diagnosed with schizoaffective psychosis, a condition she openly addressed through her poetry, chronicles, and public appearances.

Her literary career commenced with the publication of poems in Assírio & Alvim's “Anuário de Poesia de Autores não Publicados” in 1984, followed by her self-published debut, Um jogo bastante perigoso (1985).

Influenced by Sylvia Plath, she explored themes of mental health and the fragility of the human condition.

Making my Peace with Memories

In the mirror I see myself
pieced together with glue
more beautiful
than before
like the Zen plate
whose fractures
are highlighted
with gold
I’m the work of good
and bad luck
the work of affection
and the lack of it
Narcissus and anti-Narcissus
living is believing
© Translation: 2005, Richard Zenith

A Prolific Career

Adília’s works span genres and styles, blending humor, candor, and sharp social commentary.

Notable titles include O Poeta de Pondichéry (1986), inspired by Denis Diderot, and O decote da dama de espadas (1988), a collection of poems from 1983 to 1987. In 2000, her collected works, Obra, featuring illustrations by Paula Rego, solidified her place in literary history.

Her writing often drew from domestic and feminine themes, employing playful language and a distinctively colloquial style.

Her works have been translated into multiple languages and studied extensively in academic circles.

Legacy and Recognition

Over the years, Adília received numerous accolades and honors. Her collaborations with artist Paula Rego and contributions to Portuguese poetry have been widely celebrated, including international conferences and exhibitions.

Her candid reflections on mental health and the creative process resonated deeply with readers and scholars alike.

Her most recent anthology, released this year, marked 40 years of her literary journey, encompassing a lifetime of poetic exploration.

Adília’s influence extended beyond literature, with tributes from institutions like the National Ballet of Portugal.

In her own words, “Writing poems is good, but listening to the Muse is exhausting—a frenzy.” Her passing leaves a void in the world of poetry, but her work will continue to inspire generations.

Curlpapers

We’ll never cry enough
for having wanted to be beautiful
at all costs
I wanted to be beautiful
and I thought ringlets would be enough
to make me beautiful
I asked to have my hair done in ringlets
using a curling iron and curlpapers
they pulled my hair this way and that
I screamed
they told me that to be beautiful
you have to suffer
then my hair got all burnt
and wouldn’t grow back
I had to start going around with a wig
you have to suffer to be beautiful
but suffering doesn’t necessarily make us beautiful
suffering doesn’t imply a reward
as a logical consequence
a toothache may stir pity in our mother
who to soothe us but not knowing for what
gives us a piece of candy
but the candy makes our teeth hurt even more
the consequence of suffering
can be more suffering
the cause following the effect
the motive for suffering being one of the consequences
of the suffering
curlpapers being a consequence of the wig
© Translation: 2005, Richard Zenith

Translated poems via Poetry International