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.

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