and give us this day our daily bread 4

Love Sonnet XIII
by Pablo Neruda

The light that rises from your feet to your hair,
the strength enfolding your delicate form,
are not mother of pearl, not chilly silver:
you are made of bread, a bread the fire adores.

The grain grew high in its harvest of you,
in good time the flour swelled;
as the dough rose, doubling your breasts,
my love was the coal waiting ready in the earth.

Oh, bread your forehead, your legs, your mouth,
bread I devour, born with the morning light,
my love, beacon-flag of the bakeries:

fire taugh you a lesson of the blood;
you learned your holiness from flour,
from bread your language and aroma.

聶魯達《愛的十四行詩 之十三》（陳黎譯）
從你雙腳上升到髮際的光，
那包裹你纖柔軀體的力量，
不是珍珠母，不是冰冷的銀：
你是麵包做的，烈火愛慕的麵包。

穀物在收穫季節高堆，在你體內
麵粉也在幸福的時節發酵：
當麵糰使你的乳房加倍隆起，
我的愛是在土中待命的煤炭。

啊，你的額頭是麵包，你的腿是麵包，
你的嘴也是，被我吞食，隨晨光而生的麵包，
我的愛，你是麵包店的旗幟，

火教給了你血的課程，
你自麵粉體認到自己的神聖，
自麵包學會你的語言和芳香。

延伸閱讀：愛情太短 遺忘太長