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
of the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aroma, light, metals,
where little boats
that sail
towards those isles of yours that wait for me."

— Pablo Neruda