... as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
My first idea, years ago, had been to make lots of small clay open canoe forms with inclusions fired into their cavities to represent the aromas, light and metals, and arrange them as if travelling in a river to flow around a space. Later, however, after my Dad passed I inherited his architectural plans.
I had begun to feel paper might be a better choice; the fact Neruda uses the word 'little' to describe them indicates a vulnerability, delicacy, or fragility. Then, some time ago I unconsciously started 'doodling' paper shapes into tiny, long boats. I hadn't even noticed what I was doing at the time, but after one had hung around in my work room for a couple of years I realised I was still thinking about Neruda's boats.
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
Translation by Alistair Reid (Neruda's favourite translator) from the book
Pablo Neruda, Absence and Presence.
Published by W.W. Norton & Company, New York and London
Beautiful photographs by Luis Poirot accompany each poem and text.