sábado, 24 de dezembro de 2011

e. e. cummings


somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
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 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

Um comentário:

Eduardo Silveira disse...

acho esse Poema fantástico, e amo especialmente esse ultimo verso. uma metáfora diferente,
quando ele diz "nem mesmo a chuva" ele inicia uma metafora que ja parece der outra metafora dentro. bom, nao sei se e' isso. confundi. mas e' diferente, e adoro.



ps, eu queria ser anonimo.