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 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 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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