Armando Taborda's blog/

There isn't

light enough

to clearly

see

the insect's insidious flight

under the shadow of trees and birds

the batrachian's libidinous shine

at the puddle of females sticking in the mud

the cloud's cornucopia

suggesting winged gods

the precise and clean landscape

at the far away contemplation.

Sintra, Sea of Guincho (1)

Não há luz

que chegue

para ver

claramente

o insidioso voltejar de insectos

na sombra de árvores e pássaros

o libidinoso brilho de batráquios

no charco de fêmeas a rastejar na lama

a cornucópia de nuvens

na sugestão de alados deuses

a paisagem precisa e limpa

no longe da contemplação.

by Armando Taborda, unpublished text, 2008

Configuration of straight lines curves and breaks

geometric figures of stone and lime thought

when memory gets lost into dreamed' substance and time to come is on the anxiety of the cardiac murmur

fallen asleep in the sleep

or in the illusion that convictions forgive our sins and we are all free

sane

and bad

because the world's goodness is the man's wickedness

and man's wickedness leads to the irreversible progress

say international political analysts

and promote wars

but they sleep well with theirs and others' wives and make lots of love

while us compulsory chaste take pity on our virility in repose

and spend energy on the letters we write to far away wives and sons we don't see growing up

fervent

thirsty

selfless full lives

there is room enough for them in a letter without punctuation

no doubts about.

Angola, 1966-1968

Configuração de linhas rectas curvas e quebradas

figuras geométricas do pensamento de pedra e cal

quando a memória se perde na substância sonhada e o porvir está na ansiedade do sopro cardíaco

adormecida no sono

ou na ilusão de que nossas convicções nos indultam dos pecados e todos somos livres

sãos

e maus

porque a bondade do mundo é a maldade do homem

e a maldade do homem leva ao progresso irreversível

dizem os analistas internacionais

e fomentam guerras

mas dormem descansados com suas mulheres e as mulheres dos outros e fazem amor a rodos

enquanto nós os castos à força nos compadecemos de nossas virilidades repousadas

e gastamos energias nas cartas que escrevemos às nossas mulheres distantes e aos filhos que não vemos crescer

vidas cheias sem qualquer dúvida

apaixonantes

sedentas

generosas

que cabem numa carta sem pontuação.

In "Manual do Desperdício", Ceres Editora, 1994

Monday

Monday is a nice day to start again

to describe anything that hides the sun

a tree

a house

a polluted river

a son of a bitch

a foolish

a piece of pain at full gallop on the road

so the sun disintegrates in light not to hurt the eyes

sarcasm of clouds

enough heat to life

heroin in the blood of addicts

Monday

or Tuesday

it doesn't matter!

VIOLA DELTA, Volume XXXIII, Mi…

(to read the original Portuguese version please click on the figure)

In "VIOLA DELTA", volume XXXIII, Mic Editors, 2002

SUBMERGED MORNING

Morning goes through the window

inside

unsuitable intruder in my night's

memory

as it was

intimate

in the daily repetition

habit.

Because all repetition

is monotonous

despite the sun'

shine

I know the light that stays licking my wounds

of soul

once more

awaken

for the shadow's

routine.

VIOLA DELTA, Volume XXXIII, Ed…

(to read the Portuguese original version please click on the figure)

Illustration by Amadeo de Sousa-Cardoso

In "VIOLA DELTA", volume XXXIII, Edições Mic, 2002