Words are not just words
they are kisses
on the lips of silence
that speak of your essence

Saturday, July 18, 2009

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


Sylvia said...

What a wonderful gift to remember this poem... it's full of subtle contrasts, drifting between fragility and power... the immensity of world and the hands smaller than rain. Thank you for making me travel gladly beyond, dear Vesna!!

Vesna said...

Your impressions add to the beauty of this sublime poem dear Silvia, thank you for your visit and lovely comments. Hugs, Vesna

zoe said...

you have opened the world of e.e.cummings to me, dear vesna. this is such a beautiful poem, and i never would have found him without you!
thank you!

Vesna said...

He would find you Zoe, because the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses :)