By Pablo Neruda
Date: 25 January 1999

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 impemprable 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 sailed
toward those isles of yours 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.

If you think it long and mad
the wind of banners that passes through my life,
and you decide to leave me
at the shore of the heart where I have roots,
remember that at that day, at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off to seek another land.

But...
If each day, each hour
you feel that you are destined for me 
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower climbs up
to your lips to seek me,
my love, my own,
in me all that fire is repeated.
In me, nothing is extinguished or forgotten.
My love feeds on your love, beloved.
And as long as you live,
it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.