Leaning into the afternoon 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 wave like the sea or the beach by 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 is thrashed by your oceanic eyes.
The birds of night peck at the first starts
that flash like my soul when I love you
the night gallops on its shadowy mare
shedding blue tassels over the land.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Pablo Neruda
