Somewhere I Have Never Travelled

SOMEWHERE I HAVE NEVER TRAVELLED

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 easily will 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 colour 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

Posted by Ruth ii Cailo on September 19, 2005 at 03:55 PM in Poems | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)