Friday, November 03, 2006

somewhere i have never travelled

(by e. e. cummings)

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

3 comments:

Gorod said...

This is probably my favorite poem of all time.

It shows how cummings has tremendous lyrical abilities, despite being sometimes best know for his syntatic creativity.

It is amazingly delicate and pure, but never becomes lame or superficial.

I also like poems where love is portrayed as a humbling experience, when it makes one feel small in presence of the loved person... here the imagery is perfect for this purpose.

Breathtaking!

Nein said...

As you say, only one word: breathtaking!

sasa said...

Mine too... e. e. cummings's most wonderful poem, among my most loved ones.
sasa