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Antinous A Poem
+ANTINOUS+
It rained outside right into Hadrian's soul.
The boy lay dead
On the low couch, on whose denuded whole,
To Hadrian's eyes, that at their seeing bled,
The shadowy light of Death's eclipse was shed.
The boy lay dead and the day seemed a night
Outside. The rain fell like a sick affright
Of Nature at her work in killing him.
Through the mind's galleries of their past delight
The very light of memory was dim.
O hands that clasped erewhile Hadrian's warm hands,
That now found them but cold!
O hair bound erstwhile with the pressing bands!
O eyes too diffidently bold!
O bare female male-body like
A god that dawns into humanity!
O lips whose opening redness erst could strike
Lust's seats with a soiled art's variety!
O fingers skilled in things not to be named!
O tongue which, counter-tongued, the throbbed brows flamed!
O glory of a wrong lust pillowed on
Raged conciousness's spilled suspension!
These things are things that now must be no more.
The rain is silent, and the Emperor
Sinks by the couch. His grief is like a rage,
For the gods take away the life they give
And spoil the beauty they made live.
He weeps and knows that every future age
Is staring at him out of the to-be.
His love is on a universal stage.
A thousand unborn eyes weep with his misery.
Antinous is dead, is dead forever,
Is dead forever and the loves lament.
Venus herself, that was Adonis' lover,
Seeing him again, having lived, dead again,
Lends her great skyey grief now to be blent
With Hadrian's pain.
Now is Apollo sad because the stealer
Of his white body is forever cold.
In vain shall kisses on that nippled point
Covering his heart-beats' silent place implore
His life again to ope his eyes and feel her
Presence along his veins this fortress hold
Of love. Now no caressing hands anoint
With growing joy that body's lusting lore.
The rain falls, and he lies like one who hath
Forgotten all the gestures of his love
And lies awake waiting their hot return.
But all his vices' art is now with
He lies with her, whose sex cannot him move,
It rained outside right into Hadrian's soul.
The boy lay dead
On the low couch, on whose denuded whole,
To Hadrian's eyes, that at their seeing bled,
The shadowy light of Death's eclipse was shed.
The boy lay dead and the day seemed a night
Outside. The rain fell like a sick affright
Of Nature at her work in killing him.
Through the mind's galleries of their past delight
The very light of memory was dim.
O hands that clasped erewhile Hadrian's warm hands,
That now found them but cold!
O hair bound erstwhile with the pressing bands!
O eyes too diffidently bold!
O bare female male-body like
A god that dawns into humanity!
O lips whose opening redness erst could strike
Lust's seats with a soiled art's variety!
O fingers skilled in things not to be named!
O tongue which, counter-tongued, the throbbed brows flamed!
O glory of a wrong lust pillowed on
Raged conciousness's spilled suspension!
These things are things that now must be no more.
The rain is silent, and the Emperor
Sinks by the couch. His grief is like a rage,
For the gods take away the life they give
And spoil the beauty they made live.
He weeps and knows that every future age
Is staring at him out of the to-be.
His love is on a universal stage.
A thousand unborn eyes weep with his misery.
Antinous is dead, is dead forever,
Is dead forever and the loves lament.
Venus herself, that was Adonis' lover,
Seeing him again, having lived, dead again,
Lends her great skyey grief now to be blent
With Hadrian's pain.
Now is Apollo sad because the stealer
Of his white body is forever cold.
In vain shall kisses on that nippled point
Covering his heart-beats' silent place implore
His life again to ope his eyes and feel her
Presence along his veins this fortress hold
Of love. Now no caressing hands anoint
With growing joy that body's lusting lore.
The rain falls, and he lies like one who hath
Forgotten all the gestures of his love
And lies awake waiting their hot return.
But all his vices' art is now with
He lies with her, whose sex cannot him move,
- GenresPoetry
16 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1918
9 people are currently reading
99 people want to read
About the author
Fernando Pessoa
1,258 books6,404 followersFernando António Nogueira Pessoa was a poet and writer.
It is sometimes said that the four greatest Portuguese poets of modern times are Fernando Pessoa. The statement is possible since Pessoa, whose name means ‘person’ in Portuguese, had three alter egos who wrote in styles completely different from his own. In fact Pessoa wrote under dozens of names, but Alberto Caeiro, Ricardo Reis and Álvaro de Campos were – their creator claimed – full-fledged individuals who wrote things that he himself would never or could never write. He dubbed them ‘heteronyms’ rather than pseudonyms, since they were not false names but “other names”, belonging to distinct literary personalities. Not only were their styles different; they thought differently, they had different religious and political views, different aesthetic sensibilities, different social temperaments. And each produced a large body of poetry. Álvaro de Campos and Ricardo Reis also signed dozens of pages of prose.
The critic Harold Bloom referred to him in the book The Western Canon as the most representative poet of the twentieth century, along with Pablo Neruda.
It is sometimes said that the four greatest Portuguese poets of modern times are Fernando Pessoa. The statement is possible since Pessoa, whose name means ‘person’ in Portuguese, had three alter egos who wrote in styles completely different from his own. In fact Pessoa wrote under dozens of names, but Alberto Caeiro, Ricardo Reis and Álvaro de Campos were – their creator claimed – full-fledged individuals who wrote things that he himself would never or could never write. He dubbed them ‘heteronyms’ rather than pseudonyms, since they were not false names but “other names”, belonging to distinct literary personalities. Not only were their styles different; they thought differently, they had different religious and political views, different aesthetic sensibilities, different social temperaments. And each produced a large body of poetry. Álvaro de Campos and Ricardo Reis also signed dozens of pages of prose.
The critic Harold Bloom referred to him in the book The Western Canon as the most representative poet of the twentieth century, along with Pablo Neruda.
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Displaying 1 - 23 of 23 reviews
July 2, 2017
Poema de Pessoa, escrito em 1915, dedicado a Antínoo, o jovem miúdo por quem o Imperador Adriano se apaixonou, uma história de amor explorada por Marguerite Yourcenar em "Memórias de Adriano" muitos anos depois, em 1951.
Pessoa escreveu o poema em inglês, diz não saber porque o fez, mas é fácil perceber porquê. Um hino ao amor homossexual em pleno século XX nunca seria facilmente digerido. Mais interessante ainda, é que o poema apesar de escrito em inglês foi pensado para ser publicado apenas em Portugal, exatamente pelo receio que Pessoa tinha de não ser compreendido caso fosse publicado em Inglaterra. Em 1916, em carta a Cortes Rodrigues, Pessoa diria: “vai sair Orfeu 3. É aí que, no fim do número, publico dois poemas ingleses meus, muito indecentes, e, portanto, impublicáveis em Inglaterra”.
"The memory of our love shall bridge the ages.
It shall loom white out of the past and be
Eternal, like a Grecian victory,
In every heart the future shall give rages
Of not being our love's contemporary."
"Esta imagem de nosso amor os tempos cimentará.
Surgirá ele límpido do passado e será
Eterno que nem uma vitória romana.
Em cada coração se enfurecerá o futuro
Por não ter sido contemporâneo de nosso amor."
Tradução de Cunha e Silva Filho
Pessoa escreveu o poema em inglês, diz não saber porque o fez, mas é fácil perceber porquê. Um hino ao amor homossexual em pleno século XX nunca seria facilmente digerido. Mais interessante ainda, é que o poema apesar de escrito em inglês foi pensado para ser publicado apenas em Portugal, exatamente pelo receio que Pessoa tinha de não ser compreendido caso fosse publicado em Inglaterra. Em 1916, em carta a Cortes Rodrigues, Pessoa diria: “vai sair Orfeu 3. É aí que, no fim do número, publico dois poemas ingleses meus, muito indecentes, e, portanto, impublicáveis em Inglaterra”.
"The memory of our love shall bridge the ages.
It shall loom white out of the past and be
Eternal, like a Grecian victory,
In every heart the future shall give rages
Of not being our love's contemporary."
"Esta imagem de nosso amor os tempos cimentará.
Surgirá ele límpido do passado e será
Eterno que nem uma vitória romana.
Em cada coração se enfurecerá o futuro
Por não ter sido contemporâneo de nosso amor."
Tradução de Cunha e Silva Filho
April 14, 2017
O hair bound erstwhile with the pressing bands!
O eyes too diffidently bold!
O bare female male-body like
A god that dawns into humanity!
O lips whose opening redness erst could strike
Lust's seats with a soiled art's variety!
O fingers skilled in things not to be named!
[...]
My love for thee is part of what thou wert
And shall be part of what thy statue will be.
Our double presence unified in thee
Shall make to beat many a future heart.
Ay, were't a statue to be broken and missed,
Yet its stone-perfect memory
Would, still more perfect, on Time's shoulders borne, Overlook the great Morn
From an eternal East
O eyes too diffidently bold!
O bare female male-body like
A god that dawns into humanity!
O lips whose opening redness erst could strike
Lust's seats with a soiled art's variety!
O fingers skilled in things not to be named!
[...]
My love for thee is part of what thou wert
And shall be part of what thy statue will be.
Our double presence unified in thee
Shall make to beat many a future heart.
Ay, were't a statue to be broken and missed,
Yet its stone-perfect memory
Would, still more perfect, on Time's shoulders borne, Overlook the great Morn
From an eternal East
September 26, 2019
Pessoa has penned this poem on Antinous, a beloved of King Hadrian. Rumors had been that they were romantically as well as sexually involved.
And when Antinous died, something snapped within Hadrian. He became obsessed with Antinous. Started surrounding himself with his images. He built the city of Antinopolis close to the place where he had died. He even started a cult for worshipping Antinous, having deified him.
Antinous became a symbol for homosexuality in Western Culture, with Oscar Wilde penning him in The Young King. And, with Pessoa writing this poem.
It's a heart wrenching poem, and if the context is taken out of it, it is simply about a lover lamenting the death of his beloved.
The lover cries to God to breath life into the beloved again, and if it require a price, then to take all female beauties of the earth in exchange for it.
Hadrian then goes on to soliloquize, determined to make a God out of Antinous. So that, people in remembering Antinous might remember Hadrian as well.
Towards the end, he falls asleep near his forever asleep lover.
I must admit though, I found a few bits kind of creepy. Like when Hadrian kisses the dead cold lips of Antinous.
But a beautiful poem nevertheless.
I can't one word's meaning though -
"So strong my love is that it is thyself,
Thy body as it was ere death was it,
Towering above the silence infinite
That girds round life and its unduring pelf."
This word, 'Unduring'. A Google search returns no results explaining it's meaning. And I'm kind of thinking that maybe it's a typo now. *Embarrassed laugh*
And when Antinous died, something snapped within Hadrian. He became obsessed with Antinous. Started surrounding himself with his images. He built the city of Antinopolis close to the place where he had died. He even started a cult for worshipping Antinous, having deified him.
Antinous became a symbol for homosexuality in Western Culture, with Oscar Wilde penning him in The Young King. And, with Pessoa writing this poem.
It's a heart wrenching poem, and if the context is taken out of it, it is simply about a lover lamenting the death of his beloved.
The lover cries to God to breath life into the beloved again, and if it require a price, then to take all female beauties of the earth in exchange for it.
Hadrian then goes on to soliloquize, determined to make a God out of Antinous. So that, people in remembering Antinous might remember Hadrian as well.
Towards the end, he falls asleep near his forever asleep lover.
I must admit though, I found a few bits kind of creepy. Like when Hadrian kisses the dead cold lips of Antinous.
But a beautiful poem nevertheless.
I can't one word's meaning though -
"So strong my love is that it is thyself,
Thy body as it was ere death was it,
Towering above the silence infinite
That girds round life and its unduring pelf."
This word, 'Unduring'. A Google search returns no results explaining it's meaning. And I'm kind of thinking that maybe it's a typo now. *Embarrassed laugh*
October 28, 2020
I love work on the ache and longing and fervor of love. What a heart-wrenchingly gorgeous poem!
“It rained still. But slow-treading night came in / Closing the weary eyelids of each sense. /
The very consciousness of self and soul /
Grew, like a landscape threw dim raining, dim. /
The Emperor law still, so still that now /
He half forgot where now he lay, or whence /
The sorrow that was still salt on his lips. /
All had been something very far, a scroll /
Rolled up. The things he felt were like the rim /
That haloes round the moon when the night weeps.”
“It rained still. But slow-treading night came in / Closing the weary eyelids of each sense. /
The very consciousness of self and soul /
Grew, like a landscape threw dim raining, dim. /
The Emperor law still, so still that now /
He half forgot where now he lay, or whence /
The sorrow that was still salt on his lips. /
All had been something very far, a scroll /
Rolled up. The things he felt were like the rim /
That haloes round the moon when the night weeps.”
May 23, 2025
Banger
May 2, 2022
Early, interesting poem
Interesting poem; some errors of transcription and subpar formatting detract from this version, unfortunately. I had not, I believe, heard of the poet.
Interesting poem; some errors of transcription and subpar formatting detract from this version, unfortunately. I had not, I believe, heard of the poet.
February 5, 2016
Antinous (111 - 130 CE) was a young lover of the Roman emperor, Hadrian (76 -138 CE). Antinous mysteriously drowned in Nile river during his visitation to Egypt with Hadrian and his entourage. After his death, he was deified by Hadrian as one of the most revered gods and his tragedy symbolized the neutralization of homosexuality and pederasty in Ancient Greece. The most perplexing thing about the death of Antinous is that up until today, the exact cause of his death still remains a myth. Although there are manifold extrapolations made based on numerous written transcripts of Hadrian himself, which indicate that Antinous' death was not inherently accidental but on the contrary, it was contrived. Many historians tend to incline towards the assumption that Antinous deliberately drowned himself in Nile river for the betterment of Hadrian's health as a form of ancient voluntary self-sacrifice. Fernando Pessoa wrote this poem based on the death of Antinous by capturing the great emperor's laments and vulnerability after his lover's death. This is by far the first poem i endured until the last page because Pessoa crafted a beautiful, moving, and lyrical poem - which didn't only succeed in recapturing the palpable pain of loss and grief, but he also recreated a tale of love story that some people might deem 'unnatural' in the modern world.
One of my favorite paragraphs from the poem:
My love for thee is part of what thou wert
And shall be part of what thy statue will be.
Our double presence unified in thee
Shall make to beat many a future heart.
Ay, weren't a statue to be broken and missed,
Yet its stone-perfect memory
Would, still more perfect, on Time's shoulders borne,
Overlook the great Morn
From an eternal East.
One of my favorite paragraphs from the poem:
My love for thee is part of what thou wert
And shall be part of what thy statue will be.
Our double presence unified in thee
Shall make to beat many a future heart.
Ay, weren't a statue to be broken and missed,
Yet its stone-perfect memory
Would, still more perfect, on Time's shoulders borne,
Overlook the great Morn
From an eternal East.
December 30, 2015
Este es uno de los poemas que Pessoa escribió en inglés. Es muy interesante cómo retoma la figura de Antinoo, porque no sólo habla de belleza, sino también de la divinidad y de la memoria colectiva. Hay diferentes momentos en que el poema hace vibrar con descripciones eróticas pero agresivas, incluso un poco extrañas. No dejaba de pensar en la frase "senté a la belleza en mis piernas y la encontré amarga". Como sea, algo importante: la belleza por sí misma puede llevar a la divinidad. De eso hablaba R también cuando escribe ese poema. Es algo más complicado, digno de hacer todo un ensayo sobre las propiedades de la belleza. Luego, si, la memoria colectiva. Me impresionó mucho cuando Adriano dice que si logra que el mundo recuerde a Antinoo, por consecuencia lo recordarán a él. Quién sabe si recordarán el detalle más preciso del amor absoluto y devoto (lo dudo) pero los recordarán bajo un mismo destello, bajo una misma luz. Tiene mucho sentido.
July 21, 2025
Reading Antinous by Fernando Pessoa felt like stepping into a world suspended between marble statues and moonlit waters, where love, loss, and beauty exist in a state of eternal yearning. Published posthumously in 1918 under the heteronym Alexander Search, this long poem reflects Pessoa’s fascination with classical antiquity, erotic melancholy, and metaphysical longing.
The poem centers on the Roman Emperor Hadrian’s grief after the death of his beloved Antinous, who drowned in the Nile under mysterious, possibly sacrificial circumstances. Structured as a series of lyrical meditations, Antinous unfolds in an atmosphere heavy with sensuality, mourning, and the search for transcendence. Pessoa’s language is ornate, slow, and hypnotic — every line imbued with both longing and resignation.
What struck me most was how Pessoa captures the paradox of desire: how beauty draws us toward it, even as it inevitably slips away. Hadrian’s lament becomes universal — a reflection on mortality, on how love seeks to hold what life cannot preserve. The sensual imagery of bodies, water, and starlight contrasts with the looming presence of death, making the poem both lush and tragic.
Pessoa’s use of classical motifs is not mere imitation; he reanimates ancient themes to explore timeless human emotions. Antinous becomes less a historical figure and more an eternal symbol of lost beauty and unattainable desire.
For me, Antinous was less about the historical Hadrian and more about the inner landscapes of grief and devotion. It’s a poem that lingers, like a perfume in the air, reminding us that love and death are forever entwined.
Pessoa’s Antinous is a haunting hymn to beauty, memory, and the impossibility of permanence — a work that whispers across centuries to anyone who has loved and lost.
The poem centers on the Roman Emperor Hadrian’s grief after the death of his beloved Antinous, who drowned in the Nile under mysterious, possibly sacrificial circumstances. Structured as a series of lyrical meditations, Antinous unfolds in an atmosphere heavy with sensuality, mourning, and the search for transcendence. Pessoa’s language is ornate, slow, and hypnotic — every line imbued with both longing and resignation.
What struck me most was how Pessoa captures the paradox of desire: how beauty draws us toward it, even as it inevitably slips away. Hadrian’s lament becomes universal — a reflection on mortality, on how love seeks to hold what life cannot preserve. The sensual imagery of bodies, water, and starlight contrasts with the looming presence of death, making the poem both lush and tragic.
Pessoa’s use of classical motifs is not mere imitation; he reanimates ancient themes to explore timeless human emotions. Antinous becomes less a historical figure and more an eternal symbol of lost beauty and unattainable desire.
For me, Antinous was less about the historical Hadrian and more about the inner landscapes of grief and devotion. It’s a poem that lingers, like a perfume in the air, reminding us that love and death are forever entwined.
Pessoa’s Antinous is a haunting hymn to beauty, memory, and the impossibility of permanence — a work that whispers across centuries to anyone who has loved and lost.
May 5, 2023
"our love shall speak its joy and woe, death-blent, over infinities and eternities! the memory of our love shall bridge the ages. it shall loom white out of the past and be eternal, like a grecian victory, in every heart the future shall give rages of not being our love's contemporary."
"when love meets death we know not what to feel. when death foils love we know not what to know. now did his doubt hope, now did his hope doubt."
"thy death has given me a newer lust- a flesh-lust raging for eternity. on my imperial will i put my trust that the high gods, that made me emperor be, will not annul from a more real life my wish that thou shouldst live for e'ver."
"greeting thee at death's portal's happiness, for to the gods death's portal is life's portal."
"some shall say all our love was vice and crimes. others against our names, as stones, shall whet the knife of their glad hate of beauty, and make our name a pillory, a scaffold and a stake whereon to burn our brothers yet unborn."
JESUS CHRIST
"when love meets death we know not what to feel. when death foils love we know not what to know. now did his doubt hope, now did his hope doubt."
"thy death has given me a newer lust- a flesh-lust raging for eternity. on my imperial will i put my trust that the high gods, that made me emperor be, will not annul from a more real life my wish that thou shouldst live for e'ver."
"greeting thee at death's portal's happiness, for to the gods death's portal is life's portal."
"some shall say all our love was vice and crimes. others against our names, as stones, shall whet the knife of their glad hate of beauty, and make our name a pillory, a scaffold and a stake whereon to burn our brothers yet unborn."
JESUS CHRIST
August 5, 2021
gorgeous and affecting
January 26, 2022
Realmente cortito. Nunca había leído nada de Pessoa y, según tengo entendido, este en concreto no representa su poesía de normal. Pero me ha parecido muy bonito, a lo clásico británico (huh).
April 13, 2022
Perhaps not one of Pessoa’s best poems.
July 22, 2022
Es un poema muy triste y bello.
November 24, 2022
My favorite poem, I have an interesting version translated in English and French
August 29, 2023
"he was a kitten playing with lust" gotta be my favourite quote
May 3, 2025
Pessoa is one of those writers—like Nabokov or Conrad—who seems to have understood English better because he approached it as a foreign language.
March 21, 2015
I read "Venus and Adnois" by Shakespeare at age 14 and got a boner. I am 50 now but "Antinous" is pretty hot for 1915.
For the gods take away the life they give
And spoil the beauty they made live.
He weeps and knows that every future age
Is staring at him out of the to-be.
His love is on a universal stage.
A thousand unborn eyes weep with his misery.
.....
Were there no Olympus for thee, my love
Would make thee one, where thou sole god mightst prove,
And I thy sole adorer, glad to be
Thy sole adorer through infinity.
Very much an attack on homophobia throughout the ages, Rome to the 20th century:
Some shall say all our love was vice and crimes.
Others against our names, as stones, shall whet
The knife of their glad hate of beauty, and make
Our name a pillory, a scaffold and a stake
Whereon to burn our brothers yet unborn.
One of Pessoa's longer poems that I liked and kept me interested.
For the gods take away the life they give
And spoil the beauty they made live.
He weeps and knows that every future age
Is staring at him out of the to-be.
His love is on a universal stage.
A thousand unborn eyes weep with his misery.
.....
Were there no Olympus for thee, my love
Would make thee one, where thou sole god mightst prove,
And I thy sole adorer, glad to be
Thy sole adorer through infinity.
Very much an attack on homophobia throughout the ages, Rome to the 20th century:
Some shall say all our love was vice and crimes.
Others against our names, as stones, shall whet
The knife of their glad hate of beauty, and make
Our name a pillory, a scaffold and a stake
Whereon to burn our brothers yet unborn.
One of Pessoa's longer poems that I liked and kept me interested.
October 13, 2011
Pessoa's poem captures the imagined depth of feeling Emperor Hadrian had for his young lover Antinous. His death in 130 CE struck Hadrian hard and he spent much time and energy raising Antinous to the level of the Gods to help him honor his lost love.
May 7, 2014
A tale in the form of a beautiful yet sad love poem...
January 5, 2024
4 ★ pour le poème qui est magnifique. En revanche, insupportable pédante postface — et pourtant intelligente et parfois éclairante – d’Anibal Frias.
April 10, 2017
"The god is dead whose cult was to be kissed!" "Ha muerto el Dios cuyo culto era ser besado" Pessoa consigue transmitirnos en este poema el dolor del emperador por quien funda ciudades y una religión. Todo ser amado es un dios a los ojos de quien ama, es lo que clama esta elegía.
Displaying 1 - 23 of 23 reviews