Every time that girl fell in love,
she started falling through walls
and floors and through asphalt
on late-night roads,
and through nights, which fell
together with her in down feathers;
and through days, which kept
nights firmly in safety straps and the girl
from falling down dead,
until she sooner or later got back
on her feet again,
and surrendered the ability to fly
along with recklessness.

Every time that boy fell in love,
he began to fear
first of all evenings, then mornings,
then the telephone and mailmen;
he was afraid of doors that opened
and locked ones even more;
he was afraid of streets that were full
of falling girls;
he was afraid of Freud and most of all,
he was afraid of fear and of himself;
he tended to drink more than necessary,
and to fall into the wrong girl.

Translated from Estonian by Adam Cullen