Daha önce hiç uçmamış gibi yürüyordu, yaşı epey vardı sanki.. ama göründüğü kadar değil.. öyle dedi. Uzaklardan gelmiş, çok olmuş.. Neden diye sordum, “dervişlik şehirde olur dediler, geldim” dedi. “Şehri üzerime giydim yavaş yavaş, duvarlarını, merdivenlerini, sokaklarını, karanlıklarını… insanlarını bir de, gözlerimin karalığının sebebi onlar. Hepsinden öğreniyorum, sonra unutmak için.”
♦
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 will easily 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
E.E. Cummings
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
– See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15401#sthash.wIbUUuqL.dpu
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
– See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15401#sthash.wIbUUuqL.dpuf
Chandeliers of Santa Maria in Aracoeli
well I heard there was a secret chord
that David played, and it pleased the Lord
but you don’t really care for music, do ya?
♦
The voice of beauty speaks softly, it creeps only into the most fully awakened souls.
F. Nietzsche
