Armando Taborda's most commented articles

I love the stones on the brook bed they are clean sins shining in the stream they are dived liquid stars sun-shinning water projects them right now against our look and there they are washed exactly in the same position making fun of us. Gosto das pedras no leito da ribeira são pecados limpos brilham na corrente…

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. In "S…

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 sh…

Nothing justifies our destiny of shadows neither fire nor flame or ember we just burn sparks jumping out the fire crackle for instants and scintillate in the smoke that extinguishes them. (to read the original Portuguese version please click on the figure) by Armando TABORDA, in "SINFONIA EM DOR MENOR", Edição Escola de Mar, 2007 (1st e…

The soul of my dog went to the sky all dead' s kennel. Suddenly at full gallop perplexed spots black and white wag the solitary tail of my grief. A alma do meu cão foi para o céu canil de todos os mortos. Subitamente a galope perplexas manchas branco-negras agitam a cauda…

My solitude leaves me alone takes impulse from the Toccata & Fugue in D Minor of Bach to travel space through and when comes back to my sleepy body it's unable to come in. Minha solidão deixa-me só aproveita a Tocata e Fuga em Ré Menor de Bach para viajar no espaço e quando regressa ao meu corpo adormecido não consegue entrar. by…

In the long night veins nerves muscles scars and other tissues throb on me spontaneous semen as a water thread drop by drop oozed on my stone's abdomen. Petrified in granite I shine from quartz crystals will-o'-the-wisp over the sleeping grave where I bury myself. Appropriately I get older through this mineral mutation towards the ether where I float serene in a spacecraft of smiling light as the sl…

I feel myself a tired steed I don't give up breathless at the gallop through the blue track that whips my face as fast as the reflexes of the far away mountain blind me I don't know if the decomposed light into its own spectrum charms me I dream so close of myself that I think I am an utopia of a poet incarcerated in himself surprised by the mystery of life muddled obsessed by the uncertainty to reach the mountain's foot if a heart arrest paralyzes me or my dream smashes into a…

Around me there is too much green but also red orange yellow blue indigo and violet colours wrap me as a rainbow sweat drops refract my body with feet in a pond the head undulates the chest distends as an arch without hunger nor sleep or thirst or dream. À minha volta há muito verde mas também vermelho laranja amarelo azul indigo e violeta as cores embrulham-me em arco-iris gotas de suor refractam-me o corpo com os pés no charco a cabeça ondula o peito distende-se em a…

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?…

I want to enjoy the waiting time and leave my idleness at almost eighty years I feel easily asleep in front of the TV and also in the hospital waiting room with a straight BLACK BUSH after lunch or in the interval of night's insomnias urination of course is inevitable think the next poem and memorize it it's a good way to enjoy the time twists and turns I take in bed and run over my wife don't suggest any theme certainly because I always say the same or did poetry get t…

SILENCE One can hear a far off outcry closer silence increases from the immediate silence it doesn't matter if the sound is universal lament or God's roar upon imperfect landscape or Valkyries' gallop into the bohemian dawn the outcry doesn't justify the distance from where it comes perishable deteriorates in silence.…

I draw gliding clouds in Madeira's sky at night they pile up spilled waters soon return to the sea at gallop on streams. Fresh waters run liquid rumours of mountain pulsate in my body's arteries. I release the words through my last wind of useless passion flag's life pleasure on smiling lips. I want the silence picks me up by surprise in the tumultuous words' running at gallop on s…

For Lionel Deyna Cartesian birds plane fat ideas from highs which control tiny dreams fears and utopias as soul's projects. Mammal birds attack in circle at twilight afterwards they dream night hanging in caves where sunlight doesn't come in. Unforeseen and poetic low-flying voices run away from the hunt's…

A grey aura around the eyes crowns my insomnia I get out from bed. Alone. I hesitate upon the matter I am and quest my remains to explain my nights astonishment. So far I'm looking for the first smile on the next day and all other smiles in a grimace frieze engraved in stone. From me to the posterity I bequeath a portrait of thin lips rough at my mouth perimeter and another tension the photographic…

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…

Lisboa sunny white city winter morning fado houses sleep on the old hills empty of fatalism till the night falls down. Lisboa of morning proclamations that don't come back anymore from chestnut and vegetable vendors flowers and fruit fish and Gipsy's clothes drugs and sanitary pads who enjoy themselves imprecating against the police while running away. Old Lisboa…

Eyes of wet rain face of frozen wind body of lost soul at the price o rain in the wind's taste. Olhos de chuva molhados rosto de vento gelado corpo de alma perdido ao preço da chuva ao sabor do vento. by Armando TABORDA, in "MANUAL DO DESPERDÍCIO", Ceres Editora, 1994 (post 1st edition, 2012; 2nd edition, 2019)

The sun burns the water the life is a dune without sea a mountain without wind a sky without storm where is going the universal soul journey? O sol queima a água a vida é duna sem mar montanha sem vento céu sem tormenta para onde continua a viagem da alma universal? by Armando TABORDA, 2012 (post 1st edition 2012; 2nd edition, 2018; 3rd edition, 2020) (photo by NASA, taken from Internet)

There are trees in our city they are dreams into the new avenues' sky that run away from the buildings where we hide our disillusions. A nossa cidade tem árvores são sonhos no céu das avenidas novas que fogem dos prédios onde escondemos as nossas desilusões. by Armando TABORDA, 2013 (post 1st edition, 2015; 2nd edition, 2018: 3rd edition, 2022)