When we fell in love in our time, When I digested and burned for you, Letters from each other came late, A month or two passed. But maybe love was kept alive, That the fire was kept by the letters on the journey By bicycle or mule or by horse In heat and rain, snow and deepening. When we fell in love in our time The village-town letters hardly came to us We had no telephones in the rooms And in the dream there was no fax and internet. However better that it was not As telephone or internet, as fax, That word started quickly and could have killed him An old love for a moment.
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