Ode to Salt
This salt
in the salt cellar
I once saw in the salt mines.
I know
you wont
believe me
but
it sings
salt sings, the skin
of the salt mines
sings
with a mouth smothered
by the earth.
I shivered in those
solitudes
when I heard
the voice
of
the salt
in the desert.
Near Antofagasta
the nitrous
pampa
resounds:
a
broken
voice,
a mournful
song.
In its caves
the salt moans, mountain
of buried light,
translut cathedral,
crystal of the sea, oblivion
of the waves.
And then oable
in the world,
salt,
we see your piquant
powder
sprinkling
vital light
upon
our food.
Preserver
of the a
holds of ships,
discoverer
on
the high seas,
earliest
sailor
of the unknown, shifting
byways of the foam.
Dust of the sea, in you
the tongue receives a kiss
from o night:
taste imparts to every seasoned
dish your o essence;
the smallest,
miniature
wave from the saltcellar
reveals to us
more than domestic whiteness;
in it, we taste finitude.
Pablo Neruda
(ò﹏ò)
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谢谢!!!