E.E. Cummings - Somewhere I have never travelled...
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E.E. Cummings - Somewhere I have never travelled... - оригинальный текст песни, перевод, видео
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где-то, где никогда не бывал, даже сверх охотно
любого познания, твои глаза обладают безмолвием:
в жесте легчайшем твоём - всё, что меня заточает,
чего невозможно коснуться, ибо слишком близко оно
твой малейший взгляд отворяет меня без труда
хоть и как пальцы я сжал себя,
за лепестком лепесток, раскрываешь меня, как раскрывает Весна
(касаясь умело, загадочно) свою первую розу
а пожелаешь закрыть меня, я и
жизнь моя - мы красиво захлопнемся, вдруг,
как когда сердцевина цветка представляет
снег, сверху падающий осторожно
из постижимого в нашем мире не сравнимо ничто
с мощью хрупкости твоей коллоссальной:чьё сложение
подчиняет цветом своих государств меня,
смерть и вечность с каждым вздохом рисуя
(не пойму, что такое в тебе что тебя закрывает
и раскрывает; только что-то во мне понимает
голос глаз твоих глубже всех роз вокруг)
ни у кого, у дождя даже, нет таких крохотных рук
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 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
любого познания, твои глаза обладают безмолвием:
в жесте легчайшем твоём - всё, что меня заточает,
чего невозможно коснуться, ибо слишком близко оно
твой малейший взгляд отворяет меня без труда
хоть и как пальцы я сжал себя,
за лепестком лепесток, раскрываешь меня, как раскрывает Весна
(касаясь умело, загадочно) свою первую розу
а пожелаешь закрыть меня, я и
жизнь моя - мы красиво захлопнемся, вдруг,
как когда сердцевина цветка представляет
снег, сверху падающий осторожно
из постижимого в нашем мире не сравнимо ничто
с мощью хрупкости твоей коллоссальной:чьё сложение
подчиняет цветом своих государств меня,
смерть и вечность с каждым вздохом рисуя
(не пойму, что такое в тебе что тебя закрывает
и раскрывает; только что-то во мне понимает
голос глаз твоих глубже всех роз вокруг)
ни у кого, у дождя даже, нет таких крохотных рук
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 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
somewhere where I have never been, even excellently
any knowledge, your eyes have a silence:
In a gesture to your lightest - everything that implies me,
what is impossible to touch, because it is too close
Your slightest gaze opens me without difficulty
Although I squeezed myself like my fingers
Behind the petal petal, you open me as spring reveals me
(touching skillfully, mysteriously) your first rose
And you wish to close me, I and
My life - we will slam beautifully, suddenly,
as when the core of the flower represents
Snow, falling carefully on top
Nothing is comparable from the comprehended in our world
With the power of fragility of your collossal: whose addition
subordinates me to the color of his states,
death and eternity with every sigh drawing
(I do not understand what it is in you what closes you
and reveals; Only something in me understands me
The voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses around)
No one, the rain even has such tiny hands
Somewhere I have Never Traveled, Gladly Beyond
Any Experience, Your Eyes has their Silence:
in your most frail gesture are Things Which Enclose Me,
or which I cannot Touch Because They Are too Near
Your Slichtest Look Easily Will UNCLOSE ME
Throwh 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 Evewhere 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 someting in me understands
The voice of your eyes is deper than all roses)
Nobody, Not Even The Rain, Has Such Small Hands
any knowledge, your eyes have a silence:
In a gesture to your lightest - everything that implies me,
what is impossible to touch, because it is too close
Your slightest gaze opens me without difficulty
Although I squeezed myself like my fingers
Behind the petal petal, you open me as spring reveals me
(touching skillfully, mysteriously) your first rose
And you wish to close me, I and
My life - we will slam beautifully, suddenly,
as when the core of the flower represents
Snow, falling carefully on top
Nothing is comparable from the comprehended in our world
With the power of fragility of your collossal: whose addition
subordinates me to the color of his states,
death and eternity with every sigh drawing
(I do not understand what it is in you what closes you
and reveals; Only something in me understands me
The voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses around)
No one, the rain even has such tiny hands
Somewhere I have Never Traveled, Gladly Beyond
Any Experience, Your Eyes has their Silence:
in your most frail gesture are Things Which Enclose Me,
or which I cannot Touch Because They Are too Near
Your Slichtest Look Easily Will UNCLOSE ME
Throwh 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 Evewhere 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 someting in me understands
The voice of your eyes is deper than all roses)
Nobody, Not Even The Rain, Has Such Small Hands