somewhere i have
never travelled, gladly beyond
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 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
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