Articles by Armando Taborda

The window panes make the refraction of the flying light towards the horizon looking for the night and the illuminated windows of the empty buildings. The purple light watched from far away is from the spilled blood in the buildings' facades gently right now yes inhabited by shadows. A vidraça refracta a luz que voa em direcção ao horizonte à procura da noite e das janelas iluminadas dos prédi…

The navigation starts by nightfall and slows down at night magnificent of solitude global nothing at the empty sockets even from blue eyes the sky also uncoloured once the optical illusion sees blue everywhere or maybe green upon my word this is certainly the sea's colour navigation's abyss and from salvages one can only hear the surf's whisper.…

The fern waves sea of roots captured by land of free surf its vegetal condition claims the wind's shake for the light whisper through my eyes before loss into the sky /// O feto ondula mar de raízes capturadas na terra de livre rebentação sua condição vegetal reclama o frémito do vento para que a luz sussurre nos meus olhos antes de se perder no céu. by Armando TABORDA, 2013 (post 1st edition, 2013; 2nd edition, 2023; 3rd edition, 2026)

Slow trembling sparse through the senses of my body vibration without roots neither soul nor reason lasts long rhythmic breath in the dream of my sleeping body. Tremor lento esparso no corpo de meus sentidos vibração sem raízes nem alma nem razão que perdura sopro cadenciado no sonho de meu corpo adormecido. by Arm…

Through the Strait of Hormuz, now blocked by Iran, pass the ships that carry a fifth of the world's oil. Five hundred years ago, for over a century (1515-1622), Portugal dominated the strait and the trade exchanges that then passed through it, occupying the Hormuz Island with the Fort of Our Lady Conceição, built over 30 years. The customs duties charged were intended for the Portuguese State of India (and not Portugal), which was autonomous and always had surplus budgets until the fall o…

I stay here for a short time may it be so time is pressing my will to be lost here there over there infinitely anywhere. (to read the original Portuguese version please click on the figure) www.ipernity.com/blog/armando.taborda/98691 by Armando TABORDA, in "SINFONIA EM DOR MENOR", Edição Escola de Mar, 2007 (post 1st edition, 2009; 2nd edition, 2017;…

Nothing justifies our destiny of shadows nor fire nor flame nor ember we just burn sparks jumping from the fire crackle for instants and scintillate in the smoke that extinguishes them. Nada justifica nosso destino de sombras nem fogueira nem chama nem brasa ardemos simplesmente por instantes crepit…

Past the fountain out of repair And the boarded diner A small studio You'd never told anyone about Where old clothes have remained Right where you've dumped them Side by side With random notes and sketches When someone close to you Has a different idea of what you represent He insisted You'll write a check for the loan There were other misjudgements As well. Exits were being blocked Down every hall I walked Until a sort of muscle memory - Well, I knew it all along…

because the bastard you are begins to curse soon in morning the opal light that comes in through the window and the rain falling in circles on the avenue's asphalt it doesn't mean that there is no reason to smile to life just now that you are editing this bit of text into the Internet that will be read by other mates older and younger than you so that your conscience reappear and you lose the will to throw the dog out the window to cut the neck of the parakeet or to shoot at the neighboring…

RENEWED TIDE Night' sour is diluted by morning's heat anguish dives into an ocean of every fish - mammal - shell fish - jellyfish - sticky alga of thought. At night a renewed tide casts ashore solitude becomes endangered by moonlight hope survives in the abyss non-stop multiplication marvelous chaos in the birth and death of all species…

The Man is to God as the machine is to Man. If the refrigerator does not know how cold produces for the benefit of Man Man does not know what makes for profit of God. /// O Homem está para Deus como a máquina para o Homem. Se o frigorífico não sabe do frio que produz em proveito do Homem também o Homem não sabe o que faz a favor de Deus. by Armando TABORDA, in "PALAVRAS, MÚSICAS E BLASFÉMIAS QUE ENVELHEÇO NA CIDADE", Ulmeiro Editores, 1996 (post1st edition, 2014; 2nd edit…

I dare to claim the vastness of dawn on me without text nor reading nor dream. Leave me the peace of waiting for light in the solitude of this writer from moderate expression. Atrevo-me a reivindicar a vastidão da madrugada em mim sem texto nem leitura nem sonho. Deixem-me a paz da espera da luz na solidão deste vosso escritor de comedida ex…

I'm getting lost through crossed ways complex deflections infinite paths I don't come back nor I run away from future of uncertain ways complex fears infinite dreams. Determined I carry on and stumble I fall to the ground and stay moribund herald of the time being my face drowns in shade and the sun on my image's back already without soul through crossed wa…

Nothing is all that remains from everything we are given by life the day the night the joy the pain the writing the voice the colour the sound the love the friendship the mystery the dream the art the work the time the space the finite the infinite the eternal the glory the god the devil the dust. O nada é tudo o que fica de tudo o que a vida nos dá o dia a noite a alegria a dor a escrita a fala a cor o som o amor a amizade o mistério o sonho a arte o tr…

LOOK AT ME I will lose everything the day and the night the sea and the sky the joy and the pain the temple and the house the water and the wine and The Bread? the metaphor and the text the thought and the dream the sin and the virtue GOD and DEVIL the family and the world and The Love? the senses and the instinct the real and the virtual the humility and the ego the instant and the time the life and the death and The Eternity? Necessarily I am done so you?…

My pen writes in a choreography of fingers turning round on tiptoe. I hear the music alone and the pen's dance continues on tiptoe pirouettes and other tricks very nice on the stage of the Foundation Gulbenkian. (to read the original Portuguese version please click on the figure) by Armando TABORDA, in "Sinfonia em Dor Menor", Edição Escola de Mar, 2007…

I am a writer of little writing just not to bore you with repetitions. Days occur equal and also nights and tides we look to the full moon or the sunlight to the dark night or the tide's mark on the beach surf as it was for the first time. If the world does not get tired why do we get annoyed? Sou escritor de pouca escrita para não vos cansar com repetições. Os dias sucedem-se iguais e também as noites e as marés olhamos para a lua cheia ou a luz do sol a noite…

Times are changing as do our wills yesterday I went from Bajocunda to Pirada wishing to come back to Lisboa. All changes except this perennial agony over my naked and sweaty body that a rolled towel in the waist dresses me and a fan in velocity three appeases. Why I combat and get tired in a war that' s not mine? Politicians the sons of a bitch don't know neither dream that Guinea is stagnant since Teixeira Pinto or they know…