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 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 colour 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
荐稿编辑： 叶如钢
2.
此事已成
作者：科莱夫 詹姆斯 （澳）
朱峰 译
街道对过树的后面，太阳
取下最后一块灰白的圆盘。此事已成，
没有一丝柔弱苍白的光，留给任何人。
到了夜晚有更多的失落。
窗外，静寂无声，柏油马路开始泛白：
街灯下白色的蝴蝶成群。
清晨来临，穿过雪地的
是身穿糖果色外套的孩子们在走。
注意听你会感到他们正走向成熟。
注：本诗选自澳洲诗人Clive James的诗集《伤病补时》(Injury Time)
This Being Done
By Clive James
Behind the trees across the street the sun
Takes down its last pale disc. This being done,
No soft pale light is left for anyone.
There is a further comedown in the night.
Outside, unheard, asphalt is turning white:
White swarms of butterflies in the streetlight.
The morning comes, and through the spread of snow
In candy-coloured coats the children go.
Listen awhile and you can hear them grow.