At 100, at 125
T. S. Eliot was 25 when Vinicius was born,
which makes Vinicius a late or second-generation
modernist. Who would you rather be, the querulous sybil
of The Waste Land or the burly enunciator of “Porque hoje
é sábado”? The progenitor of Prufrock’s self-sorrow or
the seaside chope drinker who bleats his complaint?
This is a not a test. It is, though, a no-brainer.
October 14, 2013