If You Forget Me by Pablo Neruda

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 impalpable ashor
the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boatsthat sailtoward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Well, now,if little by little you stop loving meI shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenlyyou forget medo not look for me,for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad,the wind of bannersthat passes through my life,and you decideto leave me at the shoreof the heart where I have roots,rememberthat on that day,at that hour,I shall lift my armsand my roots will set offto seek another land.Butif each day,each hour,you feel that you are destined for mewith implacable sweetness,if each day a flowerclimbs up to your lips to seek me,ah my love, ah 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 armswithout leaving mine