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 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.
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.
