Soliloquy in the Waves

Yes, but here, I am alone.
A wave
builds up,
perhaps it says its name, I don't understand,
mutters, humps in its load
of movement and foam
and withdraws. Who
can I ask what it said to me?
Who among the waves
can I name?
And I wait.
Once again the clearness approached,
the soft numbers
rose in foam
and I didn't know what to call them.
So they whispered away,
seeped into the mouth of the sand.
Time obliterated all lips
with the patience
of shadow and
the orange kiss
of summer.
I stayed alone,
unable to respond to what the world
unquestionably was offering me,
listening to
that richness spreading itself,
the mysterious grapes
of salt, love unknown,
and in the used-up day
only a rumour remained,
further away each time,
until everything that was able to be
changed itself into silence.

- Neruda