El Árbol

In the trunk of the tree, a girl, carved her name filled with pleasure
And the tree moved, deep in its core, a flower dropped for the girl
I am the tree, moved and sad,
You are the girl, who wounded my trunk,
I always keep your, dear name,
And you, what have you done to my poor flower,

I am the tree, moved and sad,
You are the girl, who wounded my trunk,
I always keep your, dear name,
And you, what have you done to my poor flower,