Queen-Anne's- Lace
Her body is not so white as
anemone petals nor so smooth—nor
so remote a thing. It is a field
of the wild carrot taking
the field by force; the grass
does not raise above it.
Here is no question of whiteness,
white as can be, with a purple mole
at the center of each flower.
Each flower is a hand's span
of her whiteness. Wherever
his hand has lain there is
a tiny purple blemish. Each part
is a blossom under his touch
to which the fibers of her being
stem one by one, each to its end,
until the whole field is a
white desire, empty, a single stem,
a cluster, flower by flower,
a pious wish to whiteness gone over—
or nothing.
From the Collected Poems of William Carlos Williams, Volume I, 1909-1939. New Directions Publishing Corporation, USA (1938)
Su cuerpo no es tan blanco como la
anémona de pétalos ni tan suaves- ni
una cosa tan remota. Es un campo
de zanahoria silvestre tomando
el campo a la fuerza; la hierba
no se levanta por encima de ella.
Aquí no se trata de la blancura,
tan blanca como se pueda, con un lunar morado
en el centro de cada flor.
Cada flor es del ancho de la mano
de blancura. Donde
su mano ha estado es
una mancha púrpura pequeña. Cada parte
es una flor bajo su toque
las fibras de su ser
surgen de una en una, cada una a su fin,
hasta que todo el campo es un
deseo en blanco, vacío, un solo tallo,
un grupo, flor por flor,
un deseo piadoso de blancura escapado-
o nada.
From the Collected Poems of William Carlos Williams, Volume I, 1909-1939. New Directions Publishing Corporation, USA (1938)
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