Leaning into the afternoons I cast my sad nets
towards your oceanic eyes

There is 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.

P. Neruda
Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair