Somewhere I Have Never Traveled, 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