Algures onde nunca viajei

Hluboká, Républica Checa, Julho de 2006, entre centenas de rosas.

Como eu a vi enquanto viajavas por micro mundos por ali perto.

Entre as pequenas pérolas que diariamente surgem no Estado Civil, os poemas que P.M. tem generosamente oferecido a L. têm-me permitido uma arrebatadora releitura das imensamente suaves composições de e.e. cummings.
Mas é este somewhere i have never travelled, que um dia entrou de rompante em mim através de Hannah and her sisters, que me apetece oferecer-te, a cada gesto teu:

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

P. S. - A propósito, já tinha utilizado este título aqui.