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somewhere i have never travelled " g7 Q0 H* ^( D2 O
by E. E. Cummings0 @$ n0 L& a, Z, n. A7 J
/ C& L0 c' o! O- Q# q2 Ssomewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
6 G1 M3 j. P4 r7 O8 M, Cany experience,your eyes have their silence:+ c0 e3 c2 x7 u0 n
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
6 T- n; V0 v- A/ X5 |7 Por which i cannot touch because they are too near5 z1 z, h$ [3 C4 D1 Y) L
# p3 B8 m/ u3 A+ L( L+ }' n6 t- e
your slightest look easily will unclose me
) [+ s9 }5 p2 W& ithough i have closed myself as fingers,% a! @& S0 k* x8 p
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
1 S& |. Z+ t R( W8 G" t(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose
/ I# X' v! A( i. I* b5 {
2 |, c( T& b% c: Dor if your wish be to close me, i and
8 Z' `; {7 R P W6 Zmy life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,, Q% x! ?3 i* Y" v; A1 l
as when the heart of this flower imagines& U" ~6 n$ p, E% X
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
% O$ J: h0 m# w7 s9 \9 z
4 Q% F g3 j ]$ i# P8 Inothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
$ j( @) G j: ^6 Y; `the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
P3 [; {5 E8 C1 u hcompels me with the color of its countries,
. \# n) r2 f6 c) w7 rrendering death and forever with each breathing
! |# ] U; q6 m" D. P
" O# @! D! Q* ]- Y(i do not know what it is about you that closes
6 ^+ n0 L) w3 E* f% Eand opens;only something in me understands
9 p8 s! E$ P$ Z* l: L5 Sthe voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses); U6 L1 e& V) d0 C9 J7 J1 i6 J
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands( e# x+ K" f5 x! m6 g2 e$ W
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