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
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
you forget me
do not look back for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you."
Poema: "If You Forget Me" (excerto) de Pablo Neruda
Imagem: "Paris, Texas" de Wim Wenders