let's live suddenly without thinking under honest trees

E.E. Cummings

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no whisper mars the utter silence of the untranslated stars.

E.E. Cummings

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You and I wear the dangerous looseness of doom and find it becoming. Life, for eternal us, is now; and now is much too busy being a little more than everything to seem anything, catastrophic included.

E.E. Cummings

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losing through you
what seemed myself, i find
selves unimaginably mine.

E.E. Cummings

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Because only the truest things always are true because they can't be true

E.E. Cummings

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Almost anybody can learn to think, or believe, or know, but not a single human being can be taught to feel. The moment you feel, you’re nobody-but-yourself — in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else — means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight, and never stop fighting.

E.E. Cummings

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A bouquet of clumsy words: you know that place between sleep and awake where you’re still dreaming but it’s slowly slipping? I wish we could feel like that more often. I also wish I could click my fingers three times and be transported to anywhere I like. I wish that people didn’t always say ‘just wondering’ when you both know there was a real reason behind them asking. And I wish I could get lost in the stars.

Listen, there’s a hell of a good universe next door, let’s go.

E.E. Cummings

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Nobody else can be alive for you; nor can you be alive for anyone else. Toms can be Dicks and Dicks can be Harrys, but none of them can ever be you.

E.E. Cummings

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let’s live suddenly without thinking

under honest trees,
a stream
does.the brain of cleverly-crinkling
-water pursues the angry dream
of the shore. By midnight,
a moon
scratches the skin of the organised hills

an edged nothing begins to prune

let’s live like the light that kills
and let’s as silence,
because Whirl’s after all:
(after me)love,and after you.
I occasionally feel vague how
vague idon’t know tenuous Now-
spears and The Then-arrows making do
our mouths something red,something tall

E.E. Cummings

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تنم را دوست می دارم وقتی با تن توست

چرا که چیزی نو می شود

تنت را دوست دارم، آنچه که می کند دوست دارم

چگونه اش را دوست دارم

حس کردن مهره ها و استخوان هایت

را دوست دارم، و لرزش این نرمی سفت را

و آنچه که می خواهم

دوباره و دوباره و دوباره ببوسم

دوست دارم این و آن تو را ببوسم

دوست دارم کرک های هراسان تنت را

نرم نوازش کنم

و آنچه بر گوشت تنمان می رود به هنگام جدا شدن

و چشم هایمان، که خرده های بزرگ عشقند

و احتمالا لرزش تو را در زیر تنم دوست دارم

که اینهمه تازه است

شعری از ای ای کامینگز، برگردان فرشته وزیری نسب*

E.E. Cummings

Tag: love-poems

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