Each, has only one poem in him,
And it is written each time:
Over and over with different words,
Seeing each moment so differently,
But the meaning is the same...
Each, has only one soul to speak of,
For it is his inner self he speaks of,
And he does not know the name of others,
As they are different from his own,
But the meaning is the same...
Though it is said,
Over and over again...
Each, has cobble stones to walk on,
To directions of his own,
And they're all covered with past footsteps,
And stories, each with different words,
But the meaning is the same...
There is a poem in your heart,
There is a poem in your brain,
Different, each and every day,
Though the words are never the same:
The meaning is the same...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem