If You Forget Me

Emmylou Harris: Tulsa Queen

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 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 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 on 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,
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 arms
without leaving mine.

--Pablo Neruda
If You Forget Me