BW28: Ode to the Artichoke

Flowering artichoke

July 12th is the anniversary of Pablo Neruda's birthday and since I've over inundated you with links the last few weeks,  figured I'd keep it simple this week.

Ode to the Artichoke

by

Pablo Neruda

The artichoke 

With a tender heart 

Dressed up like a warrior, 

Standing at attention, it built 

A small helmet 

Under its scales 

It remained 

Unshakeable, 

By its side 

The crazy vegetables 

Uncurled 

Their tendrills and leaf-crowns, 

Throbbing bulbs, 

In the sub-soil 

The carrot 

With its red mustaches 

Was sleeping, 

The grapevine 

Hung out to dry its branches 

Through which the wine will rise, 

The cabbage 

Dedicated itself 

To trying on skirts, 

The oregano 

To perfuming the world, 

And the sweet 

Artichoke 

There in the garden, 

Dressed like a warrior, 

Burnished 

Like a proud 

Pomegrante.

And one day 

Side by side 

In big wicker baskets 

Walking through the market 

To realize their dream 

The artichoke army 

In formation.

Never was it so military 

Like on parade.

The men 

In their white shirts 

Among the vegetables 

Were 

The Marshals 

Of the artichokes 

Lines in close order 

Command voices, 

And the bang 

Of a falling box.

But 

Then 

Maria 

Comes 

With her basket 

She chooses 

An artichoke, 

She's not afraid of it.

She examines it, she observes it 

Up against the light like it was an egg, 

She buys it, 

She mixes it up 

In her handbag 

With a pair of shoes 

With a cabbage head and a 

Bottle 

Of vinegar 

Until 

She enters the kitchen 

And submerges it in a pot.

Thus ends 

In peace 

This career 

Of the armed vegetable 

Which is called an artichoke, 

Then 

Scale by scale, 

We strip off 

The delicacy 

And eat 

The peaceful mush 

Of its green heart.

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