Leaning into the Afternoons
Leaning into the afternoons I cast my sad nets
towards your oceanic eyes.There in the highest blaze my solitude lengthens
and flames,
its arms turning like a drowning man’s.I send out red signals across your absent eyes
that move like the sea near a lighthouse.You keep only darkness, my distant female,
from your regard sometimes the coast of dread emerges.Leaning into the afternoons I fling my sad nets
to that sea that beats on your marine eyes.The birds of night peck at the first stars
that flash like my soul when I love you.The night gallops on its shadowy mare
shedding blue tassels over the land.
— Pablo Neruda (1904 – 1973), Chilean writer and Communist politician.
Translation by W.S. Merwin
