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somewhere i have never travelled
( L2 O/ N, ^5 m) ?( r% g4 y, cby E. E. Cummings W J/ d: N% ^% m- D( o& m: q
4 t( ~% I( s. o- {somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
# Q: l) N: X4 iany experience,your eyes have their silence:
; ]2 x- u0 n* ~in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,5 M% Y+ x+ |: A B" v
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
2 G9 Z) e1 Y, [: c3 [6 K% h7 ^, i
your slightest look easily will unclose me
. ^# H- F2 l* hthough i have closed myself as fingers,
, y1 ?( U* t, M- @% |+ qyou open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens' l( z& D L. L% a# x
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose
# i. n) y* F4 E5 C: a9 b% |( X Z& i% m7 N' |/ S+ {1 B: @
or if your wish be to close me, i and
$ T% W/ Z; u* Nmy life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,% f$ h. [! b5 k" V" z/ v
as when the heart of this flower imagines
/ Q5 @2 B g6 ?( w4 T# U4 cthe snow carefully everywhere descending;3 t* h& Z2 Q: I0 W/ [0 t9 g
) A4 o/ T$ j! ^) ^2 r* cnothing which we are to perceive in this world equals5 P4 \/ z4 P- Q9 x* B$ x: B
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture, D/ I0 A h+ {: I6 o0 |! y0 h
compels me with the color of its countries,
8 K- b! |8 i' T1 ]! `: \6 o: [rendering death and forever with each breathing# o# C5 A: Y% q! m) c/ F& B; ~
C& p% W3 F$ W; v+ l C* P7 D(i do not know what it is about you that closes+ Y/ F3 J1 p+ J
and opens;only something in me understands
4 N F+ U- F- k# ~# w" Bthe voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)7 ?) ^% y' D, F( U' W) [$ b
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands5 H5 q, O5 `' n2 h
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