Poemas de e.e. cummings

Para mi novia Shelley, tú nuevamente.

Mi amiga Colleen Brown de California me pidió que le localizara algunos poemas para leer en una boda. De todas las opciones que le envié (algunas traducciones de Neruda, Kahlil Gibrán, etc.) estos son los mejores, en mi opinión. Ambos reflejan el tremendo romanticismo, juguetón y filosófico al mismo tiempo, que embriagaba a uno de los más grandes poetas estadounidenses de este siglo. También pienso que cummings es especialmente difícil de traducir, así que he preferido poner los textos originales. Si alguien lo recuerda -mi estimadísimo Santiago no me dejará mentir en este respecto, el segundo poema tiene una función muy particular en la película "Crimes and misdemeanors", de ese otro gran genio llamado Woody Allen (cuando Michael Caine seduce a su cuñada al comprarle el libro). cummings, damas y caballeros.

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"i carry your heart with me"

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

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"somewhere i have never travelled"

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

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