A Pablo Neruda poem in English

Ode to The Tomato

From: ‘Odas elementales’

by Pablo Neruda

The roadway

is full of tomatoes,

midday,

summer,

the light

splits itself

in two

halves

of tomato,

runs

down the roads

as juice.

In December

it goes wild

the tomato,

invades

kitchens,

infiltrates lunches,

settles itself

quietly

on sideboards,

among glasses,

butter-dishes,

blue salt-shakers.

It has

its own light,

gentle authority.

Sadly we have to

murder it:

sinking,

the knife

in its living pulp,

it is a red

heart,

a fresh

sun,

deep,

inexhaustible,

filling the salads

of Chile,

is happily wedded

to the clear onion,

and to celebrate

oil

lets itself

pour,

essential

child of the olive,

over its half-open hemispheres,

the peppers

add

their fragrance,

salt its magnetism:

it’s a stylish

wedding,

parsley

lifts

little flags,

the potatoes

boil with vigour,

the roast

knocks

on the door

with its aroma,

it’s time!

come on!

and on to

the table, in the middle

of summer,

the tomato,

earth-star,

star

repeated

and fecund,

shows us

its convolutions,

its channels,

the famous fullness

and plenty

delivers up

without stone

without rind

without scales or spines

the gift

of its fiery colour

and the whole of its freshness.