Near the murmuring
In the grain fields, of the waves
Of wind in the oat-stalks
The olive tree
With its silver-covered mass
Severe in its lines
In its twisted heart in the earth
The graceful olives
Polished by the hands
Which made the dove
And the oceanic snail
Green,
Innumerable,
Immaculate nipples of nature
And there in the dry Olive Groves
Where alone
The blue sky with cicadas
And the hard earth exist
There the prodigy
The perfect capsules
Of the olives
Filling with their constellations, the foliage
Then later, the bowls,
The miracle,
The olive oil.
I love the homelands of olive oil
The olive groves of Chacabuco, in Chile
In the morning Feathers of platinum
Forests of them
Against the wrinkled mountain ranges.
In Anacapri, up above,
Over the light of the Italian sea
Is the despair of olive trees
And on the map of Europe Spain
A black basketful of olives
Dusted off by orange blossoms
As if by a sea breeze Olive oil,
The internal supreme
Condition for the cooking pot
Pedestal for game birds
Heavenly key to mayonnaise
Smooth and tasty
Over the lettuce
And supernatural in the hell
Of the king mackerels like archbishops
Our chorus
With intimate powerful smoothness
You sing
You are the Spanish language
There are syllables of olive oil
There are words
Useful and rich-smelling
Like your fragrant material
It’s not only wine that sings
Olive oil sings too
It lives in us with its ripe light
And among the good things of the earth
I set apart Olive oil,
Your ever-flowing peace, your green essence
Your heaped-up treasure which descends
In streams from the olive tree.🌳
-a most beautiful poem by Pablo Neruda (1971)
..........and If you like olive oil as much as the nobel prize winning Pablo Neruda, you'll definitely love our range of Olive Envy oils.
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