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 ❤