Armando Taborda's photos
From life to light
The colour of today's temperature
|
|
|
|
Frieze
SUITE FOR DREAM, ORCHESTRA AND VOICES
|
|
|
|
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?
Last cruise of the day
BALANCE
|
|
|
|
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…
We go there very often
TO THINK ABOUT GOD
|
|
|
|
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
Memory also rusts
|
|
|
|
Casa do Alentejo, Lisbon, courtyard
1977-2017 40 YEARS OF LITERARY ACTIVITY
|
|
|
|
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)
Earth Planet
|
|
|
|
The Queen
I EXPLAIN TO MY LONG-DEAD FATHER HOW POETRY IS LES…
|
|
|
|
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)
Jump to top
- ipernity © 2007-2024
- Help & Contact
|
Club news
|
About ipernity
|
History |
ipernity Club & Prices |
Guide of good conduct
Donate | Group guidelines | Privacy policy | Terms of use | Statutes | In memoria -
Facebook
Twitter