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Selection of Great Poetry and some from Tommy Stroller - choose your category - and see my other sites -
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Ode to the Tomato

Great PoetryPosted by Graham Thompson Tue, February 03, 2015 19:42:59
Oda al Tomate

La calle
se llenó de tomates,
mediodia,
verano,
la luz
se parte
en dos
mitades
de tomate,
corre
por las calles
el jugo.
En diciembre
se desata
el tomate,
invade
las cocinas,
entra por los almuerzos,
se sienta
reposado
en los aparadores,
entre los vasos,
las matequilleras,
los saleros azules.
Tiene
luz propia,
majestad benigna.
Debemos, por desgracia,
asesinarlo:
se hunde
el cuchillo
en su pulpa viviente,
es una roja
viscera,
un sol
fresco,
profundo,
inagotable,
llena las ensaladas
de Chile,
se casa alegremente
con la clara cebolla,
y para celebrarlo
se deja
caer
aceite,
hijo
esencial del olivo,
sobre sus hemisferios entreabiertos,
agrega
la pimienta
su fragancia,
la sal su magnetismo:
son las bodas
del día
el perejil
levanta
banderines,
las papas
hierven vigorosamente,
el asado
golpea
con su aroma
en la puerta,
es hora!
vamos!
y sobre
la mesa, en la cintura
del verano,
el tomate,
astro de tierra,
estrella
repetida
y fecunda,
nos muestra
sus circunvoluciones,
sus canales,
la insigne plenitud
y la abundancia
sin hueso,
sin coraza,
sin escamas ni espinas,
nos entrega
el regalo
de su color fogoso
y la totalidad de su frescura.



Ode to the Tomato by Pablo Neruda

The street
drowns in tomatoes,
noon,
summer,
light is
halved
like
a
tomato,
and the streets
run
with its juice.
In December*
the tomato
cuts loose
invades
the kitchen,
it enters at lunchtime,
settles
at rest
on sideboards,
with the glasses,
butter dishes,
blue salt-cellars.
It has
its own radiance,
a goodly majesty.
Too bad we must
assassinate:
the knife
plunges
into its living flesh,
red
viscera
a fresh,
deep,
inexhaustible
sun
floods the salads
of Chile,
beds cheerfully
the the blonde onion,
and to celebrate:
oil,
the filial essence
of the olive tree,
onto its gaping hemispheres,
and pimento
adds
its fragrance,
salt, its magnetism;
we have the day’s
wedding:
parsley
flaunts
its little flag,
potatoes
thump to a boil,
the roasts
beat down the door
with their aroma
it's time!
come on!
and upon
the table,
belted by summer,
tomatoes,
stars of the earth,
stars multiplied
and fertile,
show off
their convolutions,
canals,
and plenitudes
and the abundance,
no pit,
no husk,
no scale or thorns,
grant us
the festival
of ardent colour
and all-embracing freshness.

Tr. Nathaniel Tarn

* December in Chile, of course June in the northern hemisphere

See "Ode to the Potato" by Tommy Stroller