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 powder of your intense frailty: 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
地方我從來沒有走過，愉快地超越
任何經驗，妳的眼睛保持沈默：
在您最脆弱的姿態，有些事是附上我，
或我不能觸摸因為他們太靠近
妳絲毫看我輕松地將揭開
雖然我已經關閉自己的手指，
始終打開花瓣的花瓣為自己打開春天
觸摸熟練，她的第壹個神秘的玫瑰
或者如果妳的願望是要結束我，我和
我的生命將關閉很漂亮，突然，
因為當這花心想象
各地認真的雪降;
什麽是我們要在這個世界感知等於
您的激烈脆弱粉：其質地
迫使在其國家的顏色我，
渲染死亡和永遠與每個呼吸
我不知道它是什麽對妳是關閉
並打開，在我只有理解的東西
妳眼睛的聲音的深度超過所有玫瑰
沒有人，甚至沒有下雨，有這樣的小手