But what about the chocolate ones?
Showing posts with label photoghraphy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label photoghraphy. Show all posts
Purple
SHUG: More than anything God love admiration.
CELIE: You saying God is vain?
SHUG: No, not vain, just wanting to share a good thing. I think it pisses God off when you walk by the colour purple in a field and don't notice it.
(W. Goldberg & M. Avery, The Color Purple)
Tomatoes
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. 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. (P. Neruda, Odas Elementales) | 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. (P. Neruda, Elementary Odes) |
