somewhere i have never travelled

rose-on-a-snow.jpg

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 skillfully, 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
rendering me with the color of its countries,
compels 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

— e.e. cummings —

2 Comments

  1. One of my favorite poems of all time. Yes, its a bit profound. You have to take the poem in its entirety. The theme [love] was expressed in a radical and non-conformist way.

    The picture was from flickr.com.

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