Inclinado en las tardes / Leaning into the Afternoons

Why is the world many made up of dullards and imbeciles? I know, what an introduction to today's post. I'm sorry but being surrounded by such lack of intelligence and manners shows how deplorable this world has gotten. Frankly speaking because this is my blog, profanity is a display of stupidity and lack of a lexicon. I find it equivalent to an ape flinging its fecal matter at bystanders. Today I wasn't going to stoop down to that ape's level and obviously not going to stick around to watch the feces fly.

Being outside and in nature is something that I love and it relaxes me. I love trees and fresh air. I love being alone with my thoughts. I grabbed my Neruda poetry book as I walked out the door trying to save my sanity (yet again). 

Nature and literature

All of his poems are extremely deep and are eloquently describing different aspects of love. The following is a poem that I loved. I'll post both Spanish and English (although it should be in Spanish...it's a lot more passionate and expressive). There will be commentary afterwards. 

Inclinado en las tardes 

Inclinado en las tardes tiro mis tristes redes
a tus ojos oceánicos.

Allí se estira y arde en la más alta hoguera
mi soledad que da vueltas los brazos como un náufrago.

Hago rojas señales sobre tus ojos ausentes
que olean como el mar a la orilla de un faro.

Sólo guardas tinieblas, hembra distante y mía,
de tu mirada emerge a veces la costa del espanto.

Inclinado en las tardes echo mis tristes redes
a ese mar que sacude tus ojos oceánicos.

Los pájaros nocturnos picotean las primeras estrellas
que centellan como un alma cuando te amo.

Galopa la noche en su yegua sombría
desparramando espigas azules sobre el campo

Leaning into the Afternoons

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 smell 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.

Reading this poem, I picture a woman that is so enthralled by her thoughts that she stares off. Nothing can capture her attention, not even the poetic voice, this "man." 

Metaphors compare her eyes to oceans. Those "absent" eyes that causes "dread" to emerge from them. This is due to her continuing to hold on to the past, that "darkness" that insnares her. Maybe a past love, the pain from a past love, rather. That is why her eyes are full of tears, turbulence, and absence of the present. 

He observes her from afar, trying to capture her unattainable attention, her unattainable love. Just one look, that is all he wishes. A chance to make her fall in love with him. 

The second to last verse reads, "The birds of night peck at the first stars that flash like my soul when I love you." Wow, such strong lines. Birds can peck away all they want at those flashing stars, but like always they are too far to reach. That is how his love for her makes him feel. 

It's crazy, I think that at some point in life one can be on either sides of this particular spectrum.