The sea and Neruda

I miss the sea. Trapped here, caged before a computer screen, surrounded by piles of paper and people who seem to be in a trance, I miss the sea. The spray of water, the salty wind, the sand between my toes, the soothing sound of waves, the seashells and scurrying crabs. And what have I here? Tapping of keyboards, ringing phones and the chill of the a/c.

So, I indulge in some Neruda. One of my favourites.

Ode to the Sea
Pablo Neruda

Here
Surrounding the island
There's sea.
But what sea?
It's always overflowing.
Says yes,
Then no,
Then no again,
And no,
Says yes
In blue
In sea spray
Raging,
Says no
And no again.
It can't be still.
It stammers
My name is sea.

It slaps the rocks
And when they aren't convinced,
Strokes them
And soaks them
And smothers them with kisses.

With seven green tongues
Of seven green dogs
Or seven green tigers
Or seven green seas,
Beating its chest,
Stammering its name,

Oh Sea,
This is your name.
Oh comrade ocean,
Don't waste time
Or water
Getting so upset
Help us instead.
We are meager fishermen,
Men from the shore
Who are hungry and cold
And you're our foe.
Don't beat so hard,
Don't shout so loud,
Open your green coffers,
Place gifts of silver in our hands.
Give us this day our daily fish.