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-.
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
EX-QUI-SI-TO.
Ojalá tengan la ventaja de saber inglés para entender such words.
viernes, 4 de julio de 2008
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