[Julie Steiner]

Andalusia, the home region of Salvador Rueda (1857–1933), is one of the main peach-producing areas of Spain.


Salvador Rueda: The Peach

DRAFT THREE

It gives to the greedy sense of smell its scents,
its brilliant color to the sense of sight,
when—golden cover safe-cracked—split to light,
an open sesame of redolence.

Each breast’s delicious gift of balsam-intense
flesh, it offers as the palate’s right,
and to the touch it gives a fluttery flight
on velvet’s luster and luxuriance.

Its carmine and its canyons on display,
it pours out finery, perfumes, and play,
its juice on offer like a precious prize.

And, tossing to the breeze its cover of gold—
a fragrant ringlet, spiraling—behold
its inmost witchcraft, opened to the eyes!


DRAFT TWO

It gives to the greedy sense of smell its scents,
its brilliant color to the sense of sight,
when—gold peel breached—it’s been exposed to light,
this open sesame of redolence.

Its breast’s a tasty gift of balm-intense
flesh, presented as the palate’s right,
and to the touch it gives a fluttery flight
across its velvety luxuriance.

Its carmine and its grooves on full display,
it pours out finery, perfumes, and play,
its juice on offer like a precious prize.

And, tossing to the breeze its peel of gold—
a fragrant ringlet, spiraling—behold,
its inmost charm lies open to the eyes!


DRAFT ONE

It gives to the greedy sense of smell its scents,
its brilliant color to the sense of sight,
when—gold peel breached—it’s been exposed to light,
this “Open, sesame” of redolence.

Its breast’s a tasty gift—balsam-intense
flesh—presented as the palate’s right,
and to the touch it gives the feel of flight
across its velvety luxuriance.

Its cleavage and cosmetics on display,
it pours out finery, perfumes, and play,
its juice on offer like a precious prize.

And, tossing to the breeze its peel of gold—
a fragrant ringlet, spiraling—behold,
its inner charms lie open to the eyes!


LITERAL ENGLISH PROSE CRIB

It gives perfume to the covetous sense of smell
and brilliant color to the gaze,
when, upon breaking its golden covering,
it is opened to the light like a fragrant sesame.

Its breast it offers like a tasty gift
to the palate, its flesh balsam-laden,
and to the touch it gives the flying sensation
of a velvet rich and lustrous.

Its carmine (also a term for lipstick) on display and its grooves,
it spills aromas, lights (literally, but the verb “lucir” can mean to wear jewelry or fancy clothing) and joys (literally, but “alegrías” is also slang for “naughty bits”),
its juice on offer like a treasure.

And it opens to the eyes its interior enchantment,
tossing to the breeze like a sweet-smelling ringlet
the spiral of its covering of gold!


El melocotón

Da perfume al olfato codicioso
y brillante color a la mirada,
cuando, al romper su túnica dorada,
se abre a la luz cual sésamo oloroso.

Su seno ofrece como don sabroso
al paladar, su carne enbalsamada,
y al tacto da la sensación alada
de un terciopelo rico y luminoso.

Su carmín enseñado y sus estrías,
derrama aromas, luces y alegrías,
su jugo al ofrecer como un tesoro.

Y abre a los ojos su interior hechizo,
¡tirando al aire cual oliente rizo
la espiral de su túnica de oro!

[Glenn Wright]

Hi, Julie—

Another tribute to fruit! Your translation meticulously captures the mood and images of the original. Lovely work!

The only place I found myself confused was S2L3. “Alada” means “winged,” and I wondered if Rueda had in mind the sensation of touching feathers rather than “the flying sensation.”

I like how Rueda assigns definite personalities to the various fruits he celebrates.

Glenn

[Julie Steiner]

Thanks for your feedback, Glenn. Draft Two posted above.

The adjective "alado, -a" does mean winged, but the feminine noun "alada" means a "flutter" or "flap", so I think Rueda is saying that the velvety skin of the peach gives the fingers a slight fluttering sensation. I haven't been able to double-check this yet. My childhood home had a peach tree, but I mainly have visual (not tactile) memories of how much fuzzier fresh peaches are than the ones seen in stores.

I had thought the groves/striations of L9 referred to the deep groove around the outside of a peach. But after looking at paintings and photos of peaches, I'm struck by how red and grooved the exposed pits are. So I've reconsidered both L9 and L14. I now think that Rueda is suggesting a comparison between the private inner parts of a peach and a sexually aroused woman.

[Glenn Wright]

Hi, Julie—

I think I’m confused about what, exactly, The N. does to the peach and when he does it.
In S1, he breaks the skin of the ripe fruit, releasing fragrant juice and revealing the brilliant color (orange tinged with pink?) of the flesh. Is he abrading the skin with his hands or biting into it with his teeth?

In S2, he tastes the flesh and feels the velvety texture of the skin (with his lips and tongue?). I imagined him uncovering, caressing, and kissing the breast of a woman dressed in velvet.

In S3, the woman responds with arousal.

In S4, the “interior hechizo” is ambiguous. I imagined him cutting off the fuzzy skin in one piece, forming a spiral. This suggests a woman throwing her hair back to invite her lover to enjoy her breasts. I suppose “interior” in S4 and “alegrías” in S3 might suggest something even more intimate.

In any case, Rueda turns eating a peach into a supremely sensuous experience.

Glenn

[Julie Steiner]

I dunno.

I wondered if "al romper" ("on breaking") in L3 represented the twisting motion to separate two cut hemispheres, united by the grippy pit of clingstone varieties of peach. That hemisphere scenario would certainly go well with the next quatrain's mention of a breast (although mention of a pair of breasts would have gone even better, and Rueda didn't do that). Since I wasn't sure, I thought "breaching" the skin might leave more possibilities open, such as if someone were biting into an unpeeled peach. But I don't know why anyone would do that and then go to the trouble of peeling the skin (which is edible, but some people don't like having the fuzz in their mouths, and cooking with the skins on turns the skins leathery).

There's no specific (I almost said explicit, heh) mention of cutting in the poem, until a knife is implied in the final tercet of peeling the skin into a spiraling ringlet. (Is Rueda peeling each separated half?) I assume that he's not jumping around in the timeline, and that the sonnet's grand finale really is the final step. (Could the ringlet/curl suggest public hair? If so, why only one?)

Clearly there's a lot of sexual innuendo going on here, but there doesn't seem to be a one-to-one correspondence with the logical progression of a sexual encounter, either. Unless I've been doing it wrong.

(I've also been reconsidering "Do I dare to eat a peach?" in T.S. Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock," and have come to no clear conclusions about that, either. Let the mystery be, I guess.)

[Hilary Biehl]

The line from Prufrock came to mind for me also.

In any case, the eroticism of Rueda's poem comes through in your translation. I didn't feel any need to draw literal correspondences.

I'm not crazy about L5 - "Its breast's a tasty gift." It's difficult to say and also doesn't sound quite right to me. Is "tasty" the right word, tonally, for this poem? (Real question as I don't know much Spanish.) I also miss the specificity of "balsam" from your first version.

[Hilary Biehl]

I like the changes, Julie. "Inmost witchcraft" is great.

"Canyons" sounds good, though the image seems less anatomical than "grooves." Just putting that thought out there in case it's useful - I like both alternatives.

While I know what you're saying about the "its," they don't bother me, personally.