sábado, 27 de outubro de 2007

Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

"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"

E. E. Cummings [1894-1962]

From Complete Poems: 1904-1962 by E. E. Cummings,
edited by George J. Firmage.

Um comentário:

chico disse...

Prezado Flávio,

Hoje é meu aniversário de casamento (17 anos!!!) e pensando na minha mulher fui me lembrar do poema do e.e. cummings (nobody not even the rain have such small hands...)e fiz uma busca no google e lá encontrei o poema completo que voce postou... Obrigado pela alegria que voce me deu!