Neruda’s lemon

A Lemon

By Pablo Neruda

Out of lemon flowers
loosed
on the moonlight, love’s
lashed and insatiable
essences,
sodden with fragrance,
the lemon tree’s yellow
emerges,
the lemons
move down
from the tree’s planetarium

Delicate merchandise!
The harbors are big with it-
bazaars
for the light and the
barbarous gold.
We open
the halves
of a miracle,
and a clotting of acids
brims
into the starry
divisions:
creation’s
original juices,
irreducible, changeless,
alive:
so the freshness lives on
in a lemon,
in the sweet-smelling house of the rind,
the proportions, arcane and acerb.

Cutting the lemon
the knife
leaves a little cathedral:
alcoves unguessed by the eye
that open acidulous glass
to the light; topazes
riding the droplets,
altars,
aromatic facades.

So, while the hand
holds the cut of the lemon,
half a world
on a trencher,
the gold of the universe
wells
to your touch:
a cup yellow
with miracles,
a breast and a nipple
perfuming the earth;
a flashing made fruitage,
the diminutive fire of a planet. 

 

Much like my own lemon and possibly yours, Neruda has caught the lemon just in time before its fragrance depletes and its hemispheres turn acidic and barbarous. Sweet lemon , let us make  lemonade  of it , if  we have  far too many of them loosed on the moonlight. The yellow of the lemons drops from the tree’s planetarium,a barbarous gold for sale in the bazaars of the town while the harbors are big with them. The clotting of the acids brims into its starry divisions.

Love the micro description .The lemon flowers are loosed on the moonlight- a visual delight  to imagine the lemon flowers slipping into a rampant moonlight losing themselves in it. The lemon flowers are loosed on the moonlight as some of them do not form fruits and are dropped and some of them turn fruits but lose their identity as flowers. Creation’s  very own juices (not an apple?) are irreducible and changeless in the sweet smelling  house of the rind.

We all have our lemons and  may have to make lemonade  of them. So we cut the lemon and find a little cathedral with its alcoves full of light unguessed by the eye. While the hand holds the cut of the lemon, half of a world on the trencher, the gold of the universe  swells to your touch, much like your girl’s lemon- nipples swelling to your finger-touch in their love.The cup is yellow with miracles, a breast and a nipple perfuming the earth. A flashing made fruitage of the earth the lemon is a diminutive fire of the planet.

Some beautiful images:
Lemons moving down from the planetarium.

Here lemons are astral bodies falling from  the sky-dome. The image is extended later in the metaphor of the diminutive fire of the planet.

The harbors are big with it
Beautiful image of a pregnant belly- the sensuousness of a lemon breast and nipple leading to the mellow fruitfulness of motherhood.

Half a world on a trencher

A lovely image of a cut lemon as the earth’s hemisphere placed on a trencher

Barbarous gold
Unrefined gold, the pure gold that dazzles the eye by its yellow sheen

The cup is yellow with miracles:
Beautiful. The cup is full with miracles, ripe with them.Like leaves turn yellow in autumn. A miracle of transformation of trees to season’s golden yellow.

 

 

Advertisements