Poem Hunter
My Soul
(04 October 1943 / Germany)

My Soul

My soul, how much I love you,
It's you who always there with me;
How then today, I am standing on the verge of perplexion:
My heart, you still beats there for me:
And will always be there,
Then how do, I loose my senses to hear you:
My soul,
Being pure, how lovable are you?
I was wrong at each sphere to judge you;
In judging, In aspiration, In decision and in perfection, Would, I have felt you by intution:
Only by intution.

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