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Nov 6 - Ode to the Onion -Pablo Neruda
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What do you think is Neruda's purpose in writing all these odes to ordinary things? Is he going overboard here in his description?
The whole point of an ode IS to go overboard. Originally they were sung to celebrate Greek military victories, and you know how the military loves to exaggerate its own merits!Neruda took that original intention and had fun with it when he wrote all of these "irregular odes." They're quite descriptive and a lot of fun to boot.
Some read a political message in Neruda's odes. By praising the lowly origins of things and exalting them the way he does Neruda is also arguing in favor of the indigenous poor and the lower classes. Can the onions in this ode be read as representatives of an underpriveleged and underrepresented class?
I think one of the roles of the poet is to point out details so that we appreciate the extraordinariness of the ordinary. I especially love ode to the Onion because onions are a part of daily Latino cooking, they are cheap but nutricious.(sp?) But I agree with Mike, I do feel he is drawing attention to the poor, the common people, without being directly political. The other thing I love about Neruda's odes is that when you try to imitate him and write one's own ode about an ordinary thing, it is not as easy as it sounds! "Star of the poor": I never thought of an onion like that before.
Good comments, Wendy and Mike. I think it's a real challenge to write about something so ordinary.
It just made me hungry for a tomato and onion sandwich with a little egg thrown in. I can see the correlation between the poor and the onion. During times of famine the onion is about the only thing available to eat for the poor. Many gastronomical delights have been concocted from the onion. To lift it out of obscurity and to immortalize it's pleasure its genius.
my favorite descriptions from this poem: your leaves were born
like swords
in the garden
fairy godmother
wrapped
in delicate
paper
and when the kitchen knife
cuts you, here arises
the only tear
without sorrow
Nice to see a picture Mike. Excellent photo thanks.I liked these lines:
Under the earth
the miracle
happened
and when your clumsy
green stem appeared.
and your leaves were born
like swords
in the garden.
the earth heaped up her power
showing your naked transparency.
and as the remote sea
in lifting the breasts of Aphrodite
duplicated the magnolia.
I liked watching new shoots spring forth from the earth, never had quite associated it with Aphrodite though.
Sorry I didn't read this before!I agree, Neruda makes explicit that the onion is
within reach
of the hands if the common people
and that is a big part of why he loves it.
Many great images, but my favorite:
the crystal shred
in the flaming heat of the oil
is transformed into a curled golden feather.
Late in his career, Neruda wrote a series of odes to common things. Browsing around this morning I found what looks like a lovely bilingual edition, complete with drawings.
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/44...
There’s another bilingual book here: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/44...
Ode to the Onion
Pablo Neruda
Onion
luminous flask,
your beauty formed
petal by petal,
crystal scales expanded you
and in the secrecy of the dark earth
your belly grey round with dew.
Under the earth
the miracle
happened
and when your clumsy
green stem appeared.
and your leaves were born
like swords
in the garden.
the earth heaped up her power
showing your naked transparency.
and as the remote sea
in lifting the breasts of Aphrodite
duplicated the magnolia.
So did the earth
make you,
onion,
clear as a planet,
and destined
to shine,
constant constellation
round case of water.
upon
the table
of the poor.
Generously
you undo
your globe of freshness
in the fervent consummation
of the cooking pot
and the crystal shred
in the flaming heat of the oil
is transformed into a curled golden feather.
Then, too, I will recall how fertile
is your influence
on the love of the salad,
and it seems that the sky contributes
by giving you the shape of hailstones
to celebrate our chopped brightness
on the hemispheres of a tomato.
But within reach
of the hands if the common people,
sprinkled with oil.
dusted
with bit of salt,
you kill the hunger
of the day laborer on his hard path.
Star of the poor,
fairy godmother
wrapped
in delicate
paper, you rise from the ground
eternal, whole, pure
like an astral seed.
and when the kitchen knife
cuts you, here arises
the only tear
without sorrow.
You make us cry without hurting us.
I have praised everything that exists,
but to me, onion, you are
more beautiful than a bird
of dazzling feathers,
you are to my eyes
a heavenly globe, a platinum goblet,
an unmoving dance
of the snowy anemone.
and the fragrance of the earth lives
in your crystalline nature.