The Words of My Soul

By Ilona Lakatos

Dear Reader!

The human soul can be very bleak, but it is also diverse and rich.

Our soul also determines our actions, because we can share, we can give from what is in our heart, in our soul.

If we notice the little, even the simple, we see not only the surface of the world, because in this way we recognize the beauty and joy around us, but also the pain and sadness.

Many times a beautiful moment, an old memory, light stealth through the foliage of the trees and words break out of our souls are enough.

In my volume you can read poems and short stories that can give comfort, reinforcement and guidance.

But also a smile, a serenity as a tear can flow out of our eyes.

I illustrated the book with my paintings and pictures.

They are received with as much love as I wrote.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ilona Art-Hungary
• Release date: Oct 18, 2020

Book preview

Ilona Lakatos

The words of my soul

Dear Reader!

The human soul can be very bleak, but it is also diverse and rich.

Our soul also determines our actions, because we can share, we can give from what is in our heart, in our soul.

If we notice the little, even the simple, we see not only the surface of the world, because in this way we recognize the beauty and joy around us, but also the pain and sadness.

Many times a beautiful moment, an old memory, light stealth through the foliage of the trees and words break out of our souls are enough.

In my volume you can read poems and short stories that can give comfort, reinforcement and guidance.

But also a smile, a serenity as a tear can flow out of our eyes.

I illustrated the book with my paintings and pictures.

They are received with as much love as I wrote.

Your memory

It was a nice, quiet evening,

my aching soul rested.

I summoned the good, the beautiful.

Your memory still lives in my heart today,

like a thousand lights.

They warm up,

sore wounds heal.

And you cheated on me,

you left me.

With a mocking smile on your lips

you told me:

- I'm leaving now, I like something else.

Then the years passed quietly and slowly.

You arrived as a worn old man one day,

the folds of your tired face wore you

the loneliness of recent years.

The words came out of you stuttering,

which told all the torments.

You just looked deep into my eyes.

- Excuse me, can I be