Signed by the Author
Paperback 5.5 x 8.5 in
“Tango nos Pátios do Sul is not the result of a raw talent. It brings along the influence of Yates’ poetry and the heritage of Portuguese literature. This is a book of love towards memories, restored to a level of sublimation.”
– Urbano Tavares Rodrigues
Jornal de Letras, Lisbon, Portugal
“Eduardo Bettencourt Pinto is the second best – or best – writer I have ever read.”
– J. Michael Yates
“‘The true poet discovers new variations of sensibility that can be adopted by others. Through its expression he contributes to the expansion and enrichment of the language in which he speaks,’ wrote T.S. Eliot.
Eduardo Bettencourt Pinto’s poetry reveals the harmony of the world beyond the ruins and shadows of daily life. At the same time it offers other senses within the language we speak.”
– Urbano Bettencourt
Eduardo Bettencourt Pinto has one of the most passionate voices that I have heard in a long time. His poems are written with inexplicable warmth that dives deep and soothes the soul of the reader just as beautiful musical compositions soothe the soul of the listener. The stanzas in Travelling with Shadows will remind you of the well-known masters Elytis, Seferis and Kavafy.
Apagas uma palavra como o vento árido a pegada.
Sem piedade, limpas do branco o balbucio ténue
como quem arranca do chão a erva daninha.
Fica entre os dedos um cheiro a terra fresca, húmida
Lavrador de música, pegas noutra.
Esperas que nessa passe um barco,
os cântaros se encham
de vinho para a festa, ou uma maçã amadureça
nos tristes galhos do inverno.
Nunca sabes: as palavras são bailarinas imprevisíveis;
ou te levam para um campo de águas bravas,
ou fogem de ti rindo, por seres tão pobre.
Erase one world as wind a footprint.
Merciless, clean from the blank a tenuous mumbling
as one pulls from the ground the weed.
A scent of fertile, damp earth remains
Pick another word, plougher of music.
You long for a boat to sail through this word,
the clay pitchers to fill
with wine for the celebration, or an apple to ripen
on the sad branches of winter.
You can never tell: words are unpredictable ballerinas;
either they carry you to a field of wild waters,
or flee from you laughing, since you are so poor.
about the author
Eduardo Bettencourt Pinto was born in Gabela, South of Angola. He left his country in 1975 due to the civil war, and he lived in Zimbabwe and the Azores islands before moving to Canada in 1983. He is the author of several fiction and poetry books in Portuguese and his poetry has been included in various anthologies in Portugal, England, United States and Brazil. Eduardo is the editor of the Seixo Review, an Arts and Literary magazine published online, and he is also working on a new novel. Casa das rugas (House of Wrinkles), his latest novel, is about the last days of colonialism in Angola.