In my Poetry Corner September 2026, I feature the poem “Simple Recipe for a Good Life / Receita Simples para o Bem-Viver” by Brazilian poet Dirceu Villa. Born in 1975 in São Paulo, he holds a doctorate in English Literature from the University of São Paulo (USP), studying the Renaissance in England and Italy with a doctoral internship in London, and a post-doctorate in Brazilian Literature, revising the canon of Portuguese-language poetry.

He has taught literature in postgraduate courses at USP and undergraduate courses at the Federal University of São Paulo (UNIFESP). For over six years, he has been a professor at the Poetic Translation Workshop at Casa Guilherme de Almeida, Center for Literary Translation Studies.

When asked about the role of poetry in 21st century Brazil, during an interview with Guilherme Gontijo Flores for R. Nott Magazine in February 2014, Villa said:

“Poetry is a force that creates the world. Not in the sense of a god coming and issuing a fiat lux, but it operates in people’s minds in such a way as to give them a new configuration of the world, a new description of life, which in a few years usually becomes what everyone recognizes as the world, in their imagination.
[…]
Hence, the poet’s function remains the same: it is up to him to know his craft like no one else, and to be rigorously faithful to his perceptions, no matter how much they conflict with society.”

In the one-stanza poem “This,” the poet is unable to find the word or set of words that soften the unspeakable that sends shivers down the spine, / brings tears to the eyes / and provides us with a strange, desired solitude in broad daylight.

Tired of it all
you would like to be able to sing
‘have mercy my god’ until your voice fails you:
the world is in fact an illusion,
warned by religions and philosophers alike,
all correct; the frustrated,
the disheartened, those who have worn themselves out
like pebbles rolling down a river; all correct;…

Though I don’t know what “this” horrendous event is that the poet refers to at the time, I bear witness to the ways in which we humans behave that defy understanding of what it means to be human in a civilized society.

The “Portrait of a Governor” sounds all too familiar; not much different from some of our political leaders today. The following excerpts are stanzas 2 and 4 of the four-stanza poem:

The governor is a dictator of the law of the strongest,
and has guard dogs that wear uniforms
and do not answer to reason or justice.
The governor coils snakes into microphones,
gouges out eyes with a hand in a kid glove.

The governor has hands in all pockets,
in all holsters, and pulls triggers
with his tongue. The governor has at his
fingertips the cities of the state.
The governor is a little crazed.

The featured three-stanza poem “Simple Recipe for a Good Life” speaks to the promise that modern society makes in return for our labor and top performance. With growing inequality, where the minority billionaire class secures the wealth of nations, the good life has become out of reach for many in the working class at home and worldwide.

to transform oneself into a Sunday distraction: the
other days, as everyone does, are endured
insufferable, and even Sunday evening turns bitter,
that acrid stench of automatic Mondays,

For those who work in the retail sector, Sunday may not be one’s day of rest and “distraction.” During my four years working in a large department store here in my adopted homeland, I had Thursdays off. It was the day I got our laundry done. Depending on the time of my shift on Sundays, I often missed out on fun family gatherings.

During my years in Brazil as an international trade professional, I recall the dread on Sunday evenings of returning to the grind on Monday mornings, the worse day of the week.

step by step of those squeezed into the metro, of the cries of
urgency and results at work: slave, think about
life, but without time to think? the world tells you:
[keep quiet, head down, count the success in

I’ve never used the metro (subway) in Brazil nor the USA, but overcrowded buses during peak hours on my daily commute were the norm in both countries. Recently, I got caught in the “squeeze” on my way home by bus after my yearly reading glasses eye exam.

As a retail assistant, there were times when I was the only person assigned to the entire floor, taking phone enquiries and attending to customers. My supervisor did not respond well to my complaint: “Be thankful you have a job. I know at least a hundred people who would fill your place in a heartbeat.”

figures in your account: buy and shut up, and cheer for a
good sleep under the silence of so much weathered roofing],
the clothes, leave them separated the night before, ironed and ready:
it is being prepared for everything, but accustomed to nothing.

As an international trade professional in Brazil, I learned that the more one earned, the greater the demands on one’s performance and personal time. Being prepared for everything required, among other things, accompanying an English-speaking, overseas client to buy a pair of shoes and handbag for his wife back home. The company driver took us to several popular locations before the client found what he wanted. Back at the company headquarters, I had to work late to make up for the time spent away from my desk.

This simple recipe of counting success by one’s high wages becomes difficult to digest when toxic ingredients are added to the mix: local/federal police violence, abduction/disappearance of family/community members, foreign threats to national security, and territorial wars.  

To read the complete featured poem “Simple Recipe for a Good Life / Receita Simples para o Bem-Viver” in the original Portuguese and learn more about the work of Brazilian poet Dirceu Villa, go to my Poetry Corner September 2026.