Armando Taborda's photos

From life to light

23 May 2017 7 10 411
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The colour of today's temperature

Frieze

21 May 2017 4 6 314
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SUITE FOR DREAM, ORCHESTRA AND VOICES

12 May 2017 6 6 449
To the Poets and Friends Armando Taborda and Maria da Nazaré Rocha 1. serenely the flower of the apple tree is born the predictable nature repeats itself each Spring 2. so it is the death certain although on uncertain day 3. memories of war do not die in the war they perpetuate the war in the violated souls 4. however when your smile blooms it sooths the world's fury and everything seems possible even the happiness 5. how many hands are needed to make a new world? 6. in the lap full of wise words you put down your head joining affections makes the paths shorter and dream feasible cause life that lives in the dream generated by happy minds brings the lifeblood of incoming days 7. provide harmony to the voices' music go with strong winds inflate the sails of the initial journey engrave on granite the worth of words cast on earth the affections' strength with words in unison on loose sheets of paper start the new crop still today /// SUITE PARA SONHO, ORQUESTRA E VOZES Aos Poetas e Amigos ArmandoTaborda e Maria da Nazaré Rocha 1. serenamente nasce a flor da macieira a previsível natureza repete-se em cada primavera 2. assim também é a morte certa embora em dia incerto 3. memórias de guerra não morrem na guerra perpetuam a guerra nas almas que violentou 4. todavia quando o teu riso floresce acalma a fúria do mundo e tudo parece possível até a felicidade 5. para fazer o mundo novo quantas mãos são necessárias? 6. no regaço pejado de palavras sábias deitas a cabeça unindo afectos torna os caminhos mais curtos e o sonho fica alcançável porque a vida que mora no sonho gerado nas mentes felizes traz a força vital dos dias por vir 7. dai harmonia à música das vozes ide no vento insubmisso inchar as velas da viagem inicial gravai no granito o valor das palavras lançai na terra a força dos afectos com palavras em uníssono sobre folhas soltas de papel começai ainda hoje a safra da felicidade by Joaquim MURALE, in "A POUCOS DIAS DA GUERRA", SEDA Publicações, 2017 (English translated by Armando TABORDA, 2017)

Is anybody there?

21 May 2017 9 12 419
(portrait by Artur FRANCO, oil on canvas)

Last cruise of the day

22 Apr 2017 6 8 400
Aveiro (press z to see in the lightbox)

BALANCE

18 May 2017 7 10 506
www.ipernity.com/blog/armando.taborda/4662672
18 Mar 2014 7 10 433
Cristina BRITO is a researcher, master and doctor, writer and mother, above all travels through herself and on the spaces where she has gone to wish "The next travel" (A viagem seguinte). In this book she navigates through the sea «the beginning of all» touching some ports in insular Africa of São Tomé and Príncipe and Cape Verde, for diverse times and circunstances, drawing a discontinuous graphic of emotions and telluric thoughts (certainly, a biologist seizes her surrounding matter), frequently poetic, cause «her visceral connection to the green world, to the blue ocean and to the unbearable punch of humid and animal heat» provides a suitable environment to her singular and original expression form. While Cristina, between Lisbon and São Tomé, seated down «at an outdoor café looking at the river» finished this book and «arranges her for the next travel» also, on the Tajo banks, we heard «the voices of our all ancesters». Armando TABORDA, 2014 (1st edition, 2014; 2nd edition, 2017)

In the city's confusion it's always possible to fi…

22 Apr 2017 3 5 204
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We go there very often

14 Mar 2017 6 9 276
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TO THINK ABOUT GOD

13 Jul 2015 10 22 644
To think about God is to disobey God, Since God wanted us not to know him, Which is why he didn't reveal himself to us... Let's be simple and calm, Like the trees and streams, And God will love us making us Beautiful as streams and trees, And will give us greenness in his spring, And a river to go when we end!... /// Pensar em Deus é desobedecer a Deus, Porque Deus quis que não o conhecêssemos, Por isso se nos não mostrou... Sejamos simples e calmos, Como os regatos e as árvores, E Deus amar-nos-á fazendo de nós Belos como as árvores e os regatos, E dar-nos-á verdor na sua primavera, E um rio aonde ir ter quando acabemos!... by Alberto CAEIRO (Fernando PESSOA), from "O Guardador de Rebanhos" (The Keeper of Sheep) (English translated by Armando TABORDA, 2015) (photo taken from Internet - published under the fair use doctrine for non-commercial educational purposes) (post 1st edition, 2015; 2nd edition, 2017; 3rd edition, 2021)

Renewed small lounge

11 May 2017 4 5 315
Casa do Alentejo, Lisbon

Memory also rusts

Casa do Alentejo, Lisbon, courtyard

11 May 2017 5 6 208
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1977-2017 40 YEARS OF LITERARY ACTIVITY

12 May 2017 6 9 380
those who plan to feast with my spoils will get hungry I'll just leave the wind dust and old words like me that speak of the world my eyes have seen Joaquim Murale /// 1977-2017 40 ANOS DE ACTIVIDADE LITERÁRIA aqueles que pensam banquetear-se com os meus despojos ficarão com fome só deixarei vento pó e palavras velhas como eu que falam do mundo que os meus olhos viram Joaquim Murale by Joaquim MURALE, release of four books in a box, edited by SEDA Publicações, Lda, 2017 (English translated by Armando TABORDA, 2017)

The Queen

29 Apr 2017 10 15 519
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I EXPLAIN TO MY LONG-DEAD FATHER HOW POETRY IS LES…

12 Aug 2014 17 25 688
at which point he comes to a halt on our brisk walk home through back streets, turns to me and quotes, word perfect as if it were his own, the elegy I'd struggled with for years. Never a poetry man, he was more a reader of maintenance manuals, so hearing my words in his voice renders them methodical, didactic. I stand there, dispossessed. He seems embarassed to have put me at a disadvantage and making as if he's just remembered something, ducks into a corner shop to emerge with a packet of firelighters and an evening paper. If the sort of silence only family can brew, we proceed home, though in fact we're lost. /// EXPLICO AO MEU PAI HÁ MUITO FALECIDO COMO A POESIA É MENOS AUTÊNTICA DO QUE O SONHO quando ele aparece numa paragem da nossa caminhada para casa pelas ruas traseiras, volta-se para mim e cita, a palavra perfeita como se fosse sua, a elegia que procuro há anos. Nunca foi um homem de poesia, mas do tipo leitor de manuais de manutenção, ouvir minhas palavras na sua voz torna-as metódicas, didáticas. Então, fico esvaziado. Ele parece embaraçado por me pôr em desvantagem e procede como se se tivesse lembrado de algo, patos no canto de uma loja a emergirem com uma caixa de acendalhas e um jornal vespertino. Na espécie de silêncio que só a família suporta seguimos para casa, mas de facto estamos perdidos. by Mike BARLOW, at "The POETRY REVIEW", Volume 104:2, Summer 2014 (Portuguese translated by Armando TABORDA, 2017) (1st edition, 2014; 2nd edition, 2017)

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