For today's poetry lesson, I thought we'd cover the ode.
First off, here's how Google defines "ode":
ode
noun /ōd/
odes, plural
- A lyric poem in the form of an address to a particular subject, often elevated in style or manner and written in varied or irregular meter
- A poem meant to be sung
Odes actually originated in Greece as lyric poetry, and were performed out loud accompanied by music (often on the lyre, hence the word "lyrical"). They were often written to honor specific subjects or people, and could often be lighthearted in nature. I could, of course, list a poem by the Greek poet Pindar, or the Latin poet Horace, but I think they wouldn't quite relate the way that Pablo Neruda does.
Pablo Neruda is a powerful Chilean poet who is really well known for his odes. He's great at taking ordinary, everyday things, and writing beautiful poetry in their honor. He is the one who truly introduced me to odes, and made me appreciate their power to make a big deal out of even mundane things.
For this post, I thought I would feature one of my favorite things about summer: tomatoes. In high school, I remember being particularly struck by his description of the tomato in all its glory. On top of that, I was taking Spanish at the time, and it's enormously fun to read it in the language it was written in even if you can't understand any or all of the words. Reading it out loud, regardless of how funny you think you'll sound, really does Neruda justice. So I've posted it here in both languages. Buen provecho [ = bon appetit] !
Oda al Tomate
by Pablo Neruda
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.
Devemos, 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,
aastro 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 Tomatoes
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,
inexhausible,
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 hemispheres,
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.
This poem is from:
Neruda, Pablo. 1990. Selected odes of Pablo Neruda. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Translated by Margaret Sayers Peden.
