Ana,

         I knew you as a woman of simplicity

A rose so white that stood lone on  winter’s grave

And now that I’ve taken my vows to you,

Do I discover your hidden thorns

And even when your flower whithers away 

Your thorns stab at my heart

And these open wounds time cannot heal,

And neither can I partake of the pleasures of forgetting

Those simple days of old we shared

And those small moments of temporal joy

Crept slowly all over me, intoxicating my spirit

So much so that one day of its termination

Numbs my entire being, I stand still

For with each movement paining me, inertia is soothing

And no omnipotence of the almighty can save me

And neither can I partake of the pleasures of forgetting

But there also rests in me a dire fear,

That has me paralysed with a sense of such loss

That forces the breath out of my life, my heart stops

Because the mere contemplation of losing your memories

Steals away from me my reason of being

How could I throw away to perish your memories, your possession,

I could never painlessly remind me of your charm

And neither can I partake of the pleasure of forgetting.