The soul is a presence of the divine world.
It cannot invent itself.
The soul holds the echo of primal intimacy.
This original echo whispers with every heart.
Intimacy has no limit in the soul.
(This was published by me in Micropoet under the name of my beloved mother Genova Maaa who passed away at a young age. I published for a long time under this second name. i write to keep her memory alive as long as i live) .
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It cannot invent itself! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.