Daily Neruda: Ode to a Large Tuna in the Market
In keeping with my spontaneous theme this week of Pablo Neruda's poems about ordinary things, here is another about - tuna! I actually find tuna fascinating because I was so shocked when I found out how large they are in the wild. I always pictured them as small fish when I was a child. It gives me shivers to think of these large creatures cutting through the water! So ordinary in our cuisine, but so majestic in their habitat.
The image is by Sebastiao Salgado from the linked post on Salt Salon.
"Ode to a Large Tune in the Market"
By Pablo Neruda
Translated by Robin Robertson
Here,
among the market vegetables,
this torpedo
from the ocean
depths,
a missile
that swam,
now
lying in front of me
dead.
Surrounded
by the earth's green froth
—these lettuces,
bunches of carrots—
only you
lived through
the sea's truth, survived
the unknown, the
unfathomable
darkness, the depths
of the sea,
the great
abyss,
le grand abîme,
only you:
varnished
black-pitched
witness
to that deepest night.
Only you:
dark bullet
barreled
from the depths,
carrying
only
your
one wound,
but resurgent,
always renewed,
locked into the current,
fins fletched
like wings
in the torrent,
in the coursing
of
the
underwater
dark,
like a grieving arrow,
sea-javelin, a nerveless
oiled harpoon.
Dead
in front of me,
catafalqued king
of my own ocean;
once
sappy as a sprung fir
in the green turmoil,
once seed
to sea-quake,
tidal wave, now
simply
dead remains;
in the whole market
yours
was the only shape left
with purpose or direction
in this
jumbled ruin
of nature;
you are
a solitary man of war
among these frail vegetables,
your flanks and prow
black
and slippery
as if you were still
a well-oiled ship of the wind,
the only
true
machine
of the sea: unflawed,
undefiled,
navigating now
the waters of death.
Among the market greens,
a bullet
from the ocean
depths,
a swimming projectile,
I saw you,
dead.
All around you
were lettuces,
sea foam
of the earth,
carrots,
grapes,
but of the ocean
truth,
of the unknown,
of the
unfathomable
shadow, the
depths
of the sea,
the abyss,
only you had survived,
a pitch-black, varnished
witness
to deepest night.
Only you, well-aimed
dark bullet
from the abyss,
mangled
at one tip,
but constantly
reborn,
at anchor in the current,
winged fins
windmilling
in the swift
flight
of
the
marine
shadow,
a mourning arrow,
dart of the sea,
olive, oily fish.
I saw you dead,
a deceased king
of my own ocean,
green
assault, silver
submarine fir,
seed
of seaquakes,
now
only dead remains,
yet
in all the market
yours
was the only
purposeful form
amid the bewildering rout
of nature;
amid the fragile greens
you were
a solitary ship,
armed
among the vegetables,
fin and prow black and oiled,
as if you were still
the vessel of the wind,
the one and only
pure
ocean
machine:
unflawed, navigating
the waters of death.
"Oda a un Gran Atún en el Mercardo"
By Pablo Neruda
(Original Spanish)
En el mercado verde,
bala
del profundo
océano
proyectil
natatorio,
te vi,
muerto.
Todo a tu alrededor
eran lechugas,
espuma
de la tierra,
zanahorias,
racimos,
pero
de la verdad
marina,
de lo desconocido,
de la
insondable
sombra,
agua
profunda,
abismo,
sólo tú sobrevivías
alquitranado, barnizado,
testigo
de la profunda noche.
Sólo tú, bala oscura
del abismo,
certera,
destruida
sólo en un punto,
siempre
renaciendo,
anclando en la corriente
sus aladas alets,
circulando
en la velocidad,
en el transcurso
de
la
sombra
marina
como enlutada flecha,
dardo del mar,
intrépida aceituna.
Muerto te vi,
difunto rey
de mi propio océano,
ímpetu
verde, abeto
submarino,
nuez
de los maremotos,
allí,
despojo muerto,
en el mercado
era
sin embargo
tu forma
lo único dirigido
entre
la confusa derrota
de la naturaleza:
entre la verdura frágil
estabas
solo como una nave,
armado
entre legumbres,
con ala y proa negras y aceitadas,
como si aún tú fueras
la embarcación del viento,
la única
y pura
máquina
marina:
intacta navegando
las aguas de la la muerte.
