I recorded your name on the stalk of an aloe
joined to mine, interlaced. Like a proof
before the law of the mountain
that there we were in love.
You were the one who searched for the stalk
the prettiest, the most slender.
And you even told me to also record
two hearts with an arrow.
Now you say that you don't remember,
that nothing is true, that they're just words.
I do not worry because in the end
the stalks will talk about our romance.
On the same night that you changed my love
you also cut down that stalk.
You imagined that if you saw it
it would be like an insult
You forgot that the aloe knew all that
you swore to me in our night, and that in its own way
it could confront you with a reproach
I don't know if you believe the strange things
that my eyes see, it might astonish you.
The new stalks sprouting from the aloe
are all coming marked with our names.