Somewhere I Have Never Travelled
--E.E.Cummings(1894-1962)
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 skillfully,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 colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing
(I do not know what is 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
我从未旅行过的地方，
欣然超越 任何的经验，
你的眼神多静寂：
你最纤弱的手势有物将我围绕，
我无法触及，只因太靠近。
你至轻的一瞥，轻易地将我松开，
纵使我紧闭自己如手指，
你依旧一瓣一瓣松开我，如春天开启
{dy}朵玫瑰(巧妙而神秘地，碰触)。
或者若你要关闭我，
我和我生命会美丽地合上，骤然，
一如这朵花的心，想像
雪，小心翼翼从四方飘落；
这世上我感受到的，无物能及你
极精致纤弱的力量，其质地
以其固有的本色驱动我
在每一呼吸间，体验死亡与永恒。
(我不知道这关闭我，又开启我的，
你，究竟是什么，只有我内心了解
你眼神的声音，比玫瑰更深邃)
沒有人，即使是雨，有这样的小手。
--E.E.Cummings(1894-1962)
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 skillfully,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 colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing
(I do not know what is 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
我从未旅行过的地方，
欣然超越 任何的经验，
你的眼神多静寂：
你最纤弱的手势有物将我围绕，
我无法触及，只因太靠近。
你至轻的一瞥，轻易地将我松开，
纵使我紧闭自己如手指，
你依旧一瓣一瓣松开我，如春天开启
{dy}朵玫瑰(巧妙而神秘地，碰触)。
或者若你要关闭我，
我和我生命会美丽地合上，骤然，
一如这朵花的心，想像
雪，小心翼翼从四方飘落；
这世上我感受到的，无物能及你
极精致纤弱的力量，其质地
以其固有的本色驱动我
在每一呼吸间，体验死亡与永恒。
(我不知道这关闭我，又开启我的，
你，究竟是什么，只有我内心了解
你眼神的声音，比玫瑰更深邃)
沒有人，即使是雨，有这样的小手。
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