◆ somewhere i have
never travelled
somewhere i have
never traveled,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
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
t i carry your heart with me
i carry
your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)
i am never without it
anywhere i go you go, my dear
and
whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling
i fear no
fate (for you are my fate, my sweet)
i want no
world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's
you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is
the deepest secret nobody knows
here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the
sky of the sky of a tree called life
which
grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide
and this
is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry
your heart
===========================================
-- by Elizabeth Bishop (1911-1979)
* One
Art
The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write
it!) like disaster.
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