Ode to Salt

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    <strong>Ode to Salt</strong>

    This salt

    in the salt cellar

    I once saw in the salt mines.

    I know

    you wont

    believe me

    but

    it sings

    salt sings, the skin

    of the salt mines

    sings

    with a mouth smothered

    by the earth.

    I shivered in those.

    solitudes

    when I heard

    the voice

    of

    the salt

    in the desert.

    Near Antofagasta

    the nitrous

    pampa

    resounds:

    a

    broken

    voice,

    a mournful

    song.

    In its<q></q> caves

    the salt moa<mark>99lｉｂ?</mark>ns, mountain

    of buried light,

    translut cathedral,

    crystal of the sea, oblivion

    of the waves.

    And then oable

    in the world,

    salt,

    we see your piquant

    powder

    sprinkling

    vital light

    upon

    our food.

    Preserv<var>?</var>er

    of the a

    holds of ships,

    discoverer

    on

    the high seas,

    earliest

    sailor

    of the unknown, shifting

    byways of the foam.

    Dust of the sea, in you

    the tongue receives a kiss

    from o night:

    taste imparts to every seasoned

    dish your o essence;

    the smallest,

    miniature

    wave from the saltcel<s>.９９ｌｉｂ.</s>lar

    reveals to us

    more than domestic whiteness;

    in it, we taste finitude.

    <strong>Pablo Neruda</strong>

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