Ode To SaltThis salt
in the saltcellar
I once saw in the salt mines.
I know
you won't
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 caves
the salt moans, mountain
of buried light,
translucent cathedral,
crystal of the sea, oblivion
of the waves.

And then on every table
in the world,
salt,
we see your piquant
powder
sprinkling
vital light
upon
our food. Preserver
of the ancient
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 ocean night:
taste imparts to every seasoned
dish your ocean essence;
the smallest,
miniature
wave from the saltcellar
reveals to us
more than domestic whiteness;
in it, we taste infinitude.

Acknowledgment Gracias a quienes ayudaron u ofrecieron su ayuda de varias formas, incluyendo a Steve Wiley. Unas gracias enormes a Victor Cabrera y Andy Daitsman, que se quemaron los ojos y los dedos transcribiendo odas a granel.

Recopilación:
Patricio Mason
pmason@chasqui.mic.cl
Santiago, Chile

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Not sure if P. Mason is the translator here or one of the other persons acknowledged, but I think this comes across pretty well 'en Engles.' Enjoy!