Armando Taborda's most commented articles

"life is a cross", it's said, but not everyone carries it. there is a lot of cheating, for example, pretending not to see or have it, nailing it on the back of an unwary innocent, setting it on the high altar or at the church facade. "a vida é uma cruz", diz-se, mas nem todos a carregam. há para aí muita batota, por exemplo, fingindo não a ver ou ter, pregando-a nas costas dum incauto inocente, fixando-a no altar-mór ou na fachada da igreja. by Armando TABORDA, 2017 (post…

the swimming pool and the sea are at a dive distance and the insidious wave of heat covers our skin as if it was sweat in the beach blind from bright light deaf by salt crystals in the ears and dumb by so many people amazement knees in water and my back to the India sea route astonished I behold buildings planted on the cliff pulsating mirages of Portugal a piscina e o mar estão à distância de um mergulho e o calor insidioso cobre a nossa pele como se fosse…

In some poets I read redundant and no-meaning metaphors they want to lie more than usually pretend. For me the clarity of the text is the one of clean running water through the municipal distribution network that just washes the bodies out of bed and kills the thirst of night-owls and dreamers. Em alguns poetas leio metáforas redundantes e gratuitas querem mentir ainda mais do que habitualmente fingem. Para mim a clareza do texto é a da água limpa que…

Text every time more laconic and simple without drama nor pain trickle of crystalline water depurated by life everyone should drink. Clean words like recent tear plain like naked body precise like frequent pain undressed till being a bird inside the emotion naked words fly through the never coming joy into the past sensation is difficult they fly forever. Blank sheet lette…

Cold tears persistent diamonds or opala that runs on veins masses and nodules glide on the windowpane and get lost in the oblivion ditch I look and see flowers girls at window whiskey books and I think reality that temps and moves us isn't always the one that's within our reach Lágrimas frias persistentes diamantes ou opala que corre em veios massas e nódulos deslizam na vidraça e perdem-se na valeta do esquecimento Olho e vejo flores meninas à janela u…

I don't know if what I am is this sadness I feel all surroundings are jazz's music I hear at a Manhattan Avenue in Lisboa my city of light and shadows the hills leave in the soul this night's time so far away from everything so close to nothing the sax-tenor solo sounds sarcastic smile I swallow with my cigar' smoke. (to read the original Portuguese v…

LAND TIRED OF RAIN It's not true my brain´s dullness and I growing old. Land tired of rain sun crop pasture forest fire Man regenerates wild flower heather thicket wind's blow flight of bird forest' sprout. (to read the original Portuguese version please click on the picture)…

Body exists in my shape and movement is there the soul transcends me any time of life perplexes masks look into the mystery through the mirror's images. O corpo existe em minha forma e movimento é nele que a alma me transcende a qualquer hora da vida perplexas máscaras perscrutam o mistério nas imagens do espelho.…

The escape happens from the unattainable side of self till the other from the finite side of being claims the escaped part of dream. A fuga dá-se pelo lado inatingível do eu até que o outro do lado finito do ser reclama a parte do sonho que fugiu. by Armando TABORDA, in "SONHOGRAFIAS", Universitária…

We are dream's engineers forever forgotten throughout life as they were a mist of smiles on the lips. Somos engenheiros de sonhos esquecidos ao longo da vida para sempre assim mesmo em bruma de sorrisos nos lábios. by Armanfdo TABORDA, in "SONHOGRAFIAS", Universitária Editora, 2000 (1st edition, 2009; 2nd edition, 2017)

Here is a poetry book with a modern and original structure, as if it were a two-dimensional graph of intervals, autobiographical, where the author, with mastery and great beauty, X-rays the remarkable moments of her life. The abcissa of the graph distributes the poem into four chapters/quadrants (endless, unfading, ceaseless, undying), which are divided into twelve months of the year, from Spring to Winter, as if the entire life were nothing more than a tellurian cyclical repetition of the fo…

BLANK PIECE OF PAPER I look at you blank piece of paper I foresee a spreading blood tear being absorbed by the sheet pores blotting paper of a not yet coming pain idea ballerina pilgrim deciduous non-existent the pain whatever it is disappears through the pores of any blank piece of paper. (to read the original Portuguese version please click on t…

In the cruel presence of solitude at the white silence of my shadow in the wall my mind is also whitewashed falls asleep into a cradle of white light and when awakes from fresh water determines itself wild lucid deceives me with searched smiles in ignorance and fear. Na cruel presença da solidão no silêncio branco de minha sombra na parede…

MENU OF THE DAY The news in the morning paper are the whole day repeated on TV. War famine genocide and pollution economical crimes drugs pedophilia and prostitution disasters accidents and namely corruption are eaten at lunch during the afternoon news…

Light leaves weak shadows badly drawn on the walls rain falls poorly but there will be a heavy shower by mid-afternoon workers on the scaffolding of the opposite building gather at the works dockyard cars slow down the avenue windshield wipers oscillating no pedestrians on sidewalks just open umbrellas that hurry in my living room comfort I'm electrocuted by a mettalic gray sky that doesn't kill but blinds stunned I blink the melancholy of the day and record in this petty t…

Seated on my spaceship of surrounding and concise sand I watch seagulls blind of light in a difficult flight over the sea. The sail-black-flock of seagulls flaps rumour of salt on the beach my eyes blind of light without route over the sea. Sentado em minha nave de areia circundante e concisa avisto gaivotas cegas de luz em difícil voo sobre o mar.…

An ashes halo around my eyes crowns the insomnia I get up from bed. Alone. I hesitate on the matter I am and I ask what is left for the explanation of my night's astonishment. Until when I look for the first smile at the day after and other smiles engraved on a stone's grimace frieze. From me to the posterity I bequeath a portrait of thin li ps rough at the perimeter of my mouth and one another ten…

Smoke of fogs at the island steaming on the grey ocean now green under a sun of fire smoking on waters I think seated on the island that wakes up far away murmurs. Fumo de névoas na ilha que fumega no oceano cinzento verde agora sob o sol…

Narrative of sound rocks me at the dream's terrace I think more and more slow this time of light burning on the mountain and invigorating the blood of seeming dead reptiles but they are vibrant of sunbathing scales shine on the terrace as dreams in the hideaway darkness they dream fire. Narrativa de som embala-me no socalco de sonhos que penso cada vez mais lentos neste tempo de luz que arde na mont…

1 If one of these days you see me crying be sure I celebrate all I didn't suffer. 2 Burnt cigarette dying melody certainty all is good quickly dissolves. In daily paper "Diário Popular", literary supplement "Juvenil", 1958 (I was 16 years old) (1st edition, 2010; 2nd edition…