Poet, essayist, writer, novelist and academic
On the 17th of March Nuno Júdice, one of Portugal’s most famous contemporary poets died in Lisbon at the age of 74.
Nuno Judice was born in Mexilhoeira Grande (Algarve). Poet, essayist, writer, novelist, and – until 2015 – professor at the Faculty of Social and Human Sciences at the New University of Lisbon, where he graduated in Romance Philology and received his doctorate in 1989 with a thesis on Medieval Literature.
Júdice held the position of director of the literary magazine Tobacconist (Tabacaria), served as cultural adviser of the Embassy of Portugal and was director of the Camões Institute in Paris. He organized the European Poetry Week within the framework of Lisbon ’94 – European Capital of Culture.
Besides poetry, he published an overwhelming number of prose, essays, anthologies and critical editions of literary studies. His literary debut was in 1972 with ‘The Concept of Poem.’
Throughout his literary career, he was distinguished with numerous awards such as the Pablo Neruda Prize, Spain’s Queen Sofia Ibero-American Poetry Prize, the Pen Club Prize and the D. Denis Prize.
He received the Grand Prize of Poetry from the Portuguese Association of Writers for ‘Meditation on Ruins’, a finalist for the European Prize for Literature.
Júdice was a member of the editorial board of Time magazine and curator for the Jose Saramago Foundation. His works were translated into Greek, Chinese, Arab Spanish, Italian, French and English. After his retirement, he continued to work for theatre and translated authors such as Molière, Emily Dickson and Shakespeare. His most recent work is called ‘A Harvest of Silences’ (2023).
Lisbon light
The light crosses my room between
the two windows, and it’s always the same light, although
on one side – where the sun is now – is the west and on the other
– where the sun was before – is the east. In my room
west and east come together, and it’s this
light that is misleading to the eye, that does not know when
the first light is coming. Then, I look at the line
running through the space between the two windows,
that seems to have neither beginning nor end; and
then I pull that line towards me
into the room, and roll it up, as if I could
tie both ends of the day
to midday, so that time would stand
still between two windows, on the west
and on the east, until the thread again
unrolls, and everything
starts all over.
(from The Matter of Poem, 2008)
Have a great week Tenha uma ótima semana (pic Lusa)
Interesting links
Pages
Archive
- May 2024
- April 2024
- March 2024
- February 2024
- January 2024
- December 2023
- November 2023
- October 2023
- September 2023
- August 2023
- July 2023
- June 2023
- May 2023
- April 2023
- March 2023
- February 2023
- January 2023
- December 2022
- November 2022
- October 2022
- September 2022
- August 2022
- July 2022
- June 2022
- May 2022
- April 2022
- March 2022
- February 2022
- January 2022
- December 2021
- November 2021
- October 2021
- September 2021
- August 2021
- July 2021
- June 2021
- May 2021
- April 2021
- March 2021
- February 2021
- January 2021
- December 2020
- November 2020
- October 2020
- September 2020
- August 2020
- July 2020
- June 2020
- May 2020
- April 2020
- March 2020
- February 2020
- January 2020
- December 2019
- November 2019
- October 2019
- September 2019
- August 2019
- July 2019
- June 2019
- May 2019
- April 2019
- March 2019
- February 2019
- January 2019
- December 2018
- November 2018
- October 2018
- September 2018
- August 2018
- July 2018
- June 2018
- May 2018
- April 2018
- March 2018
- February 2018
- January 2018
- December 2017
- November 2017
- October 2017
- September 2017
- August 2017
- July 2017
- June 2017
- May 2017
- April 2017
- March 2017
- February 2017
- January 2017
- December 2016
- November 2016
- October 2016
- April 2016