MY POEMS COME OUT OF THE SOUL OF WHAT I AM
My poems come out of the soul of what I am
They are small
And they do not remain forever
They return and repeat themselves
Before leaving me alone.
My poems come out of the soul of what I am
But they do not really know me
Somewhere in another universe
They are read and reread endlessly
As if their meaning is more real
Than I can ever know it to be.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem