THE MAD FIDDLER

O Clube de Tavira apresenta

Clube de Tavira
SEX 26 – Out, SAB 27 e SEG 28 Out às 18h30 Not from the northern road, Not from the southern way, First his wild music flowed Into the village that day… In The Mad Fiddler. Fernando Pessoa O pianista e compositor tavirense Luis Conceição compõe temas para os poemas da série The Mad Fiddler, de Fernando Pessoa, interpretados Jane Hennessy, cantora irlandesa que vive e canta no Algarve há vários anos.

Jane Hennessy . Compositora e cantora – concerto de jazz The Mad Fiddler

nasceu na Irlanda. Iniciou o seu trabalho de compositora e cantora com a idade de 12 anos e trabalhou nos mais diversos domínios musicais. Como cantora gravou vários “backing vocals” para produtores de música pop, vencedores de Grammy Awards. Interpretou a sua própria composição, ‘Dream Come True’ no festival eurovisão da canção na Irlanda, tendo ficado a sua composição em segundo lugar (apenas um ponto abaixo da vencedora). Hoje vive e trabalha como cantora profissional no Algarve.

Luís Conceição . Compositor E Pianista . concerto de jazz The Mad Fiddler

concluiu o Curso de Piano. no Conservatório Regional do Algarve, licenciou-se em Ciências Musicais na Universidade Nova de Lisboa e em Piano na Universidade de Évora. Mestrado em Ensino do Piano no Instituto Piaget. É Diretor Pedagógico e Professor de Piano e História da Cultura e das Artes na Academia de Música de Tavira. Pianista e Compositor, tocou em salas nacionais e internacionais. Já compôs mais de 250 obras. O seu estilo é de fusão tendo afinidades com o Jazz, a Música Étnica a Erudita.

------------------------------------------------------------- No tempo em que festejavam o dia dos meus anos, Eu era feliz e ninguém estava morto. Na casa antiga, até eu fazer anos era uma tradição de há séculos, E a alegria de todos, e a minha, estava certa com uma religião qualquer. ------------------------------------------------------------- No tempo em que festejavam o dia dos meus anos, Eu tinha a grande saúde de não perceber coisa nenhuma, De ser inteligente para entre a família, E de não ter as esperanças que os outros tinham por mim. Quando vim a ter esperanças, já não sabia ter esperanças. Quando vim a olhar para a vida, perdera o sentido da vida. ------------------------------------------------------------- Sim, o que fui de suposto a mim mesmo, O que fui de coração e parentesco, O que fui de serões de meia-província, O que fui de amarem-me e eu ser menino. O que fui — ai, meu Deus!, o que só hoje sei que fui... A que distância!... (Nem o acho...) O tempo em que festejavam o dia dos meus anos! ------------------------------------------------------------- O que eu sou hoje é como a humidade no corredor do fim da casa, Pondo grelado nas paredes... O que eu sou hoje (e a casa dos que me amaram treme através das minhas lágrimas), O que eu sou hoje é terem vendido a casa. É terem morrido todos, É estar eu sobrevivente a mim-mesmo como um fósforo frio... ------------------------------------------------------------- No tempo em que festejavam o dia dos meus anos... Que meu amor, como uma pessoa, esse tempo! Desejo físico da alma de se encontrar ali outra vez, Por uma viagem metafísica e carnal, Com uma dualidade de eu para mim... Comer o passado como pão de fome, sem tempo de manteiga nos dentes! ------------------------------------------------------------- Vejo tudo outra vez com uma nitidez que me cega para o que há aqui... A mesa posta com mais lugares, com melhores desenhos na loiça, com mais copos, O aparador com muitas coisas — doces, frutas, o resto na sombra debaixo do alçado As tias velhas, os primos diferentes, e tudo era por minha causa, No tempo em que festejavam o dia dos meus anos... ------------------------------------------------------------- Pára, meu coração! Não penses! Deixa o pensar na cabeça! Ó meu Deus, meu Deus, meu Deus! Hoje já não faço anos. Duro. Somam-se-me dias. Serei velho quando o for. Mais nada. Raiva de não ter trazido o passado roubado na algibeira!... ------------------------------------------------------------- O tempo em que festejavam o dia dos meus anos!... ------------------------------------------------------------- 15-10-1929 ------------------------------------------------------------- BIRTHDAY . ÁLVARO DE CAMPOS ------------------------------------------------------------- In the days when they celebrated my birthday, I was happy and no one was dead. In the old house, even my birthday was a centuries-old tradition, And everybody’s joy, and my own, were certain like some religion or other. ------------------------------------------------------------- In the days when they celebrated my birthday, I was healthy enough not to understand anything, To be the smart one within the family, And to not have the hopes that others had for me. When I came to have hopes, I no longer knew how to hope. When I came to look at life, I had lost all of life’s meaning. ------------------------------------------------------------- Yes, what I supposed to be myself, What I was of heart and kinship, What I was of mid-province evenings, What I was of being loved and being a little boy. What I was - ah my God! What only today I know I was ... How far away! ... (I can’t find it…) In the days when they celebrated my birthday! ------------------------------------------------------------- What I am today is like the humidity in the corridor at the end of the house, Mould sprouting on the walls ... What I am today (and the house of those who loved me trembles through my tears), What I am today is that they sold the house. And they are all dead, And it is me myself surviving like a spent match ... ------------------------------------------------------------- In the days when they celebrated my birthday My love, like a person, this time! A physical desire of the soul to meet there again, For a metaphysical and carnal journey, With a duality of myself for myself ... Wolfing down the past like bread in a famine, without time for the butter to touch the teeth! ------------------------------------------------------------- I see everything again with a sharpness that blinds me to what there is here ... The table set with more places, with finer designs on the crockery, with more glasses, The sideboard loaded with many things – sweets, fruit, the rest in shadow under the overhang –, The old aunts, the different cousins, and it was all because of me, In the days when they celebrated my birthday... ------------------------------------------------------------- Stop, my heart! Do not think! Leave thinking to the head! Oh my God, my God, my God! These days I don’t celebrate my birthday any more I go on. I count my days. I will be old when I am old. Nothing else. I’m furious with myself for not having kept the stolen past in my pocket! ... ------------------------------------------------------------- In the days when they celebrated my birthday. ------------------------------------------------------------- English translation by J.Coston & T.Leão ------------------------------------------------------------- BIRTHDAY PAIRTY . ÁLVARO DE CAMPOS ------------------------------------------------------------- Back in the day at ma birthday pairty Ah wiz happy and naebdy wiz deid. In yonder auld hoose, ma birthday, it wiz even centuries aulder than me. Oor joy, your joy, n ma joy, wuzziz good iz any religion ------------------------------------------------------------- An ah just couldny fun any meanin, as lang at ma life ah did peer. Fur ivrihin ah thoat that ah wiz, Fur aw in the heart an the hame... With did ah tak frae oor cosy nights Frae being loved and secure as a wean? Whit? oh my God, an right just thismornin ah kent, Noo it's gone, aw loast, canny funnit, It's aw gone so faur away. ------------------------------------------------------------- Back in the day at ma birthday Whin ah wizny cauld, damp an auld, An there wiz nae mould oan the wa's The day am the mould in the hallway, Am a hoose o tremblin an tears, The hoose o ma loved yins is sold, Ma loved yins aw deid, An me bae maself, just a spent match heid, just a skelf... ------------------------------------------------------------- Back in the day at ma birthday, Ma love, we are livin this time, Oor souls an oor boadies will meet there again, For houghmagandie, plus, the divine. Lovin masel like maself loves you, We'll wolf doon the past like butter an breid Nae time fur worries tae trouble oor teeth, ------------------------------------------------------------- Ah see it again razor sharp, but am blin tae aw that's right here; The table is set furra throng, wae glasses and china sae fine, Sideboard loaded wae sweeties and fruit, an mer sits just oota sicht, Aud aunties and cousins aw come frae afar, an aw because o me. ------------------------------------------------------------- Back in the day at ma birthday... Stoap, my heart's gonny brek, I canny think... Uch, leave thinkin just tae the heid, Uch God, dear God, oh mu God! Ah canny be arsed wae ma birthday, Sinnae pairty fur thin anymen, Ah just coont the days, ------------------------------------------------------------- An ah go oan ma way An ah'll be auld whin am auld That's it An am fashed wae masel fur no haudin, The jewels o the past in ma pouch, Back in the day... Whin they celebrated ma birthday. ------------------------------------------------------------- Scots translation by Jim Ferguson (from the English of J.Coston & T.Leão) ------------------------------------------------------------- BIRTDAY . ÁLVARO DE CAMPOS ------------------------------------------------------------- Whan dey wir aye a mindin apö mi birthday, I wis da blyde, an aaboady wis mad livin. I da aald hoose dan, even mi birtday wis laek as if hit wis aye bön, An aaboady’s delicht, mi ain an aa, wis as sure as some feth or idder. ------------------------------------------------------------- Whan dey wir aye a mindin apö mi birthday, I wis fierdy enoych no ta ken onythin ava, Ta be da clever een ithin da faemly, An ta be unawaar o da hoops idders hüld fur me. Whan I cam ta hae hoops, I wis lang by kennin foo ta hoop. Whan I cam ta luik at life, I wis lost aa o life’s meanin. ------------------------------------------------------------- Ya, whit I tocht wis me, Da haert-holl o me, an wha I wis sib tae, ------------------------------------------------------------- Whit I was taen fur, in aboot da nicht, i da country wyes, Whit A’m bön ta love as a peerie boy. Whit I wis - oh my Fadder! Whit jöst daday A’m learned A’m bön ... Foo far awa! ... (I canna fin hit …) ------------------------------------------------------------- Whan dey wir aye a mindin apö mi birthday! Whit I im daday is laek da möfi passage-wye at da far end o da hoose, Waas aa blue-finsket ... Whit I im daday (an da hoose o dem at loved me vimmers trowe mi taers), Whit I im daday is dat dey selt da hoose. An der aa dead, An hit’s jöst me survivin laek a snuffed oot match ... ------------------------------------------------------------- Whan dey wir aye a mindin apö mi birtday Dis time, mi hjarta, wi da laekly o a person! A fantin o da sowl ta meet dere again, Ta travail tagidder in baith mind an boady, Me, brokken in twa … Glunshin da past laek bread whin black fantin, afore da butter could even touch mi teeth! ------------------------------------------------------------- I see aa dat again wi a shairpness dat blinnds me ta whit’s here ... Da table set wi mair places, wi mair braa pattreens apö da lem, wi mair cups, Da dresser gronnin wi a lock o things – sweeties, fruit; da rest i da shadow up anunder da skelf Da aald aunties, da scry o cooshins, an hit wis aa becaas o me, Whan dey wir aye a mindin apö mi birtday Stop, mi haert! White tinkin! Laeve da tinkin tae da head! ------------------------------------------------------------- Oh my Fadder, my Fadder , my Fadder! Nooadays I nivver celebrate mi birtday I hadd at. I coont mi days. ------------------------------------------------------------- A’ll be aald whin A’m aald. Dat’s aa. Mad at meesel fur no keepin ithin mi pooch da past A’m tieved! Whan dey wir aye a mindin apö mi birthday! … ------------------------------------------------------------- 15-10-1929 translation (from the English of J.Coston & T.Leão) into Shetlandic by Christine De Luca (June 2019) ------------------------------------------------------------- VERJAARDAG . ÁLVARO DE CAMPOS ------------------------------------------------------------- In de tijd men mijn verjaardag vierde Was ik gelukkig en neimand was dood. In het vroegere huis was mijn verjaardag zelfs een traditie van eeuwen her, En de blijdschap van allen, en de mijne, stond vast als ongeacht welke religie. ------------------------------------------------------------- In de tijd waarin men mijn verjaardag vierde Had ik de grote gezondheid van niets te begrijpen, Van intelligent te zijn in de familiekring En van niet de verwachtingen te hebben, wist ik niet die de anderen voor mij hadden. Toen ik begon verwachtingen te hebben, wist ik niet meer hoe verwachtingen te hebben, Toen ik begon naar het leven te kijken, had het de zin van het leven verloren. ------------------------------------------------------------- Ja, degen die ik was als mijn mijn veronderstelde zzelf, Degene die ik was in hart en in verwantschap, Degene die ik was op semiprovinciale familieavonden, Degene die ik was in dat men van mij hield end at ik kind was, Degene die ik was – ach ja, mijn God!, die ik pas nu besef te zijn geweest… Op welk een ajstand!... (Zelfs geen echo…) De tijd waarin men mijn verjaardag vierde! ------------------------------------------------------------- War ik nu ben is als het vocht in de gang van het acterhuis,~ Vocht dat de muren doet beschimmelen… Wat ik nu ben ( en het huis van hen die van mijn hielden trilt door miijn tranen heen), Wat ik nu ben is dat ze het huis hebben verkocht, Is dat ze allemal gestorven zijn, Is dat ik overlevende van mijzelf ben al seen uitgedoofde lucifer… ------------------------------------------------------------- In de tijd waarin men verjaardag vierde… Welke een lifde van mijn, net al seen mens, die tijd! Fysick verlagen van de ziel weer daar te zijn, Via een metafysische en vleselijke reis, Met behulp van een dualiteit tussen ik en mij… Het verleden opeten als hongerbrood, en zonder tijd voor boter op de tanden! ------------------------------------------------------------- Ik zie weer alles met een scherpte die mij blind maakt voor war mij omgeeft… De gedekte tafel met meer plaatsen, met mooiere figuren op het serviesgoed, met meer glazen, Het buffet met allerlei – gebakjes, vruchten, nog méér in de schaduw van het achtervark. De oude tantes, de diverse neven, en alles was vanwege mij, In de tijd waarin men mijn verjaardag vierde… ------------------------------------------------------------- Hou op, mijn hart! Niet denken! Laat het hoofd maar denken! O mijn God, mijn God, mijn God! Nu ben ik nooit meer jarig. Ik duur voort. Er komen dagen bij. Ik zal oud zijn wanneer ik het word. Meer niet… Woede het verleden niet te hebben gestolen en meegenomen in mijn broekzak! ------------------------------------------------------------- De tijd waarin men mijn verjaardag vierde… ------------------------------------------------------------- 15 oktober 1929 ------------------------------------------------------------- Tradução de August Willemsen

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