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 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