She wrote to me and I wrote to her
We both remembered our times together that once were
She spoke of caution, love and desire
I rambled of hearts, filled with raging fire
She mentioned consequences, I worried of wrongs
We both named lyrics of meaningful songs
She pressed ink onto paper every other day
Come 11 o’clock, I check my tray
When hearts are parted a 1000 miles away
Type fuels the passion with which to make it stay
And when we are joined and these silent lips meet
Chased will be the devil loneliness, which makes us now weep
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem