Episode 12 of “Cooking The Books” Podcast Now Available!

The latest episode of my podcast “Cooking The Books” just dropped and it’s a good one! We’re talking South American politics, poetry, and the joys of the humble and sensual tomato, so check it out at:


4 thoughts on “Episode 12 of “Cooking The Books” Podcast Now Available!

  1. fuckin’ fuck-bombing (fuckin’ works fuckin’ well with fuckin’ Shakespeaare, by the fuckin’ way. Fuckin’ try it: To fucking be or fucking not to fucking be, that fucking is the fucking question…) fuckin anyway….fuckin’ ode to fuckin’ tomatoes (Though I get the you-rolling stuffed t-dish, I’d do a ‘pappa al pomodoro’ tuscan not chilean but as a plate-ode to tomato. And tuscany is one of the older red regions in the world, I suppose.) …. just in fuckin’ case your fuckin’ poem fuckin’ aversion fuckin’ hasn’t fuckin’ let fuckin’ you fuckin’ to fuckin’ this (fuckin’ becquer), you fuckin’ might fuckin’ like fuckin’ it/his fuckin’ words, fuckin’ not fuckin’ translatable as fuckin’ most of fuckin’ poetry fuckin’ is…

    Volverán las oscuras golondrinas
    en tu balcón sus nidos a colgar,
    y otra vez con el ala a sus cristales
    jugando llamarán.

    Pero aquellas que el vuelo refrenaban
    tu hermosura y mi dicha a contemplar,
    aquellas que aprendieron nuestros nombres…
    ¡esas… no volverán!

    Volverán las tupidas madreselvas
    de tu jardín las tapias a escalar,
    y otra vez a la tarde aún más hermosas
    sus flores se abrirán.

    Pero aquellas, cuajadas de rocío
    cuyas gotas mirábamos temblar
    y caer como lágrimas del día…
    ¡esas… no volverán!

    Volverán del amor en tus oídos
    las palabras ardientes a sonar;
    tu corazón de su profundo sueño
    tal vez despertará.

    Pero mudo y absorto y de rodillas
    como se adora a Dios ante su altar,
    como yo te he querido…; desengáñate,
    ¡así… no te querrán!

    Trans. Allison Young (1924)

    Dusky swallows again will come
    Upon thy balcony their nests to swing,
    And tap their wings upon thy window- panes
    In playful fluttering;

    But those which slackened in their flight,
    Thy beauty and my fortune their con- cern;
    Those which even came to know our names…
    Those…will ne’er return!

    Twining honeysuckle will come
    Again thy garden wall to clamber o’er,
    And spread again upon the air its blossoms,
    Fairer than all before;

    But those, bediamonded with dew,
    Whose drops we two were wont to watch aquiver
    And fall, as they were tears of limpid morning…
    Those…will come back never!

    Burning words of love will come
    Again full oft within thine ears to sound;
    Perchance thy heart will even be aroused
    From its sleep profound;
    But mute and prostrate and absorbed,
    As God is worshipped in His holy fane,
    As I have loved thee…undeceive thyself:
    Thou wilt not be thus loved again!

    Liked by 1 person

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