I want to have discovered, myself,
At the heart wherever,
Time does travel with no end,
No needs be, turning into any Guelph.
Blake should teach me how to ‘hold,
Infinity in the palm of my hands,
And eternity in an hour',
Without the soul being sold.
The problem is- the soul divorces the heart intentionally,
But searches for its eternal habitat pointlessly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem