If you forget me
Pablo Neruda, trans. Ochoa Pérez Isaac
I want you to know one thing.
You know what it is like: if I look
at the crystal moon, the red branch
of the quiet autumn through my window,
if I touch you
by the fire
the impalpable ashes or the shriveled firewood,
everything draws me to you,
as if everything that exists:
aromas, light, metals
were small ships
sailing to those isles of yours awaiting me.
However,
if little by little you stop loving me
I will stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly
you forget me
don’t look for me
because I’ll have forgotten you.
If you regard long and hard
the waiving flags
passing through my life
and you decide
leaving me at your shores’ heart
where I put down roots,
think,
on that day
at that time
I will raise my arms
and I’ll uproot to look for another land.
But
if everyday,
every hour,
you feel you are meant to me
with implacable sweetness,
if everyday
a flower climbs your lips to look for me
Oh! My ladylove, oh mine!
in me that burning is renewed,
nothing is put out or forgotten in me,
your love feeds mine, loved,
as long as you live it will be surrounded by your arms
without leaving mine.