Leaning into the Afternoons (Translated by W.S. Merwin)


Leaning into the afternoons I cast my sad nets

toward 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.