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Ode To Tomatoes by Pablo Neruda

My favorite poem :) :) :)


Ode To Tomatoes
by Pablo Neruda

The street filled with tomatoes,
midday,
summer,
light is halved like a tomato,
its juice runs through the streets.
In December,
unabated,
the tomato invades the kitchen,
it enters at lunchtime,
takes its ease on countertops,
among glasses,
butter dishes,
blue saltcellars.
It sheds its own light,
benign majesty.
Unfortunately, we must
murder it:
the knife sinks into living flesh,
red viscera,
a cool sun, profound, inexhaustible,
populates the salads of Chile,
happily, it is wed to the clear onion,
and to celebrate the union
we pour oil,
essential child of the olive,
onto its halved hemishpere,
pepper adds its fragrance,
salt, its magnetism;
it is the wedding of the day,
parsley hoists its flag,
potatoes bubble vigorously,
the aroma of the roast
knocks at the door,
it's time!
come on!
and, on the table,
at the midpoint of summer,
the tomato, star of earth,
recurrent and fertile star,
displays its convolutions,
its canals,
its remarkable amplitude and abundance,
no pit,
no husk,
no leaves or thorns,
the tomato offers
its gift
of fiery color
and cool completeness.