「トマトへの頌歌」の版間の差分
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'''Ode To Tomatoes'''<br> | '''Ode To Tomatoes'''<br> | ||
| + | <p>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 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.</p> | ||
| + | <p>Pablo Neruda</p> | ||
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[[Category:トマトに関連する詩|と]] | [[Category:トマトに関連する詩|と]] | ||
2021年7月10日 (土) 18:17時点における最新版
トマトへの頌歌
トマトで埋め尽くされた通り、真昼、夏、光はトマトのように半分になり、そのジュースは通りを流れる。12月になっても衰えず、トマトはキッチンに侵入し、ランチタイムになると、カウンターの上、グラス、バター皿、青いソルトセラーの間に安住する。トマトは独自の光を放ち、穏やかな威厳を持つ。残念ながら、私たちはそれを殺さなければならない。包丁が生きた肉、赤い内臓に刺さり、冷たい太陽、深遠で無尽蔵な、チリのサラダを満たしている。幸せなことに、それは透明なタマネギと結婚し、その結婚を祝うために、オリーブの本質的な子供であるオイルをその半分の半球に注ぎ、コショウはその香りを、塩はその磁力を加える。そしてテーブルの上では、夏の半ばに、地球の星であり、繰り返し繁殖する星であるトマトが、その複雑さ、運河、驚くべき振幅と豊かさを見せてくれます。穴もなく、殻もなく、葉もなく、棘もないトマトは、燃えるような色とクールな完全さをプレゼントしてくれます。
原文
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, 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 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.
Pablo Neruda