Ode to a Woman Gardening | Poem by Pablo Neruda

Ode to a Woman Gardening





by Pablo Neruda, translated by Jodey Bateman



Yes, I knew that your hands were

a budding sprout, a lily

of silver:

you had something to do

with the soil,

with the flowering of the earth,

but

when

I saw you digging, digging,

pushing pebbles apart

and guiding roots

I knew at once,

my farming woman,

that

not only

your hands

but your heart

were of earth,

that there

you were

making

your things,

touching

moist

doorways

through which

the

seeds

circulate.



So in this way

from one plant

to the other

recently

planted one,

with your face

spotted

with a kiss

from the clay,

you went

and came back

flowering,

you went

and from your hand

the stem

of the astromeria

raised its solitary elegance,

the jasmine

adorned

the mist on your brow

with stars of dew and fragrance.



Everything

grew from you

penetrating

into the earth

and becoming

green light,

foliage and power

you communicated

your seeds to it,

my beloved,

red gardening woman:

your hand

on familiar terms

with the earth

and the bright growing

was instantaneous.

Love, thus also

your hand

of water,

your heart of earth,

gave

fertility

and strength to my songs

you touch

my chest

while I sleep

and trees blossom

from my dreaming.

I wake up, open my eyes,

and you have

inside me

stars in the shadows

which will rise and shine

in my song.



That's how it is, gardening woman:

our love

is

earthly:

your mouth is a plant of light, a corolla,

my heart works among the roots.



Other Jodey Bateman translations of Pablo Neruda:

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