If you forget me

I want you to know one thing.

You know how this is:

If I look

at the crystal moon, at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window,

If I touch

near the fire, the implacable ash, or the wrinkled body of the log,

everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists,

aromas, light, metals, were little boats that sail toward those aisles that wait for me.

Well now,

if little by little you stop loving me, I shall stop loving you little by little

If suddenly

you forget me, do not look for me

for I shall already have forgotten you!

-Pablo Neruda