You know how it is: if I look at the crystal moon, the red branch of the slow autumn in my window, if I touch the impalpable ash or the wrinkled body of the firewood by the fire, everything takes me to you, as if everything that exists, aromas, light, metals, were small ships sailing towards your islands that keep me.

Now then, if little by little you stop loving me I will stop loving you little by little.

If you suddenly forget me, do not look for me, because I will have already forgotten you.

If you consider the long and crazy wind of flags that passes through my life and decides to leave me on the shore of the heart where I have roots, think that on that day, at that hour I will raise my arms and my roots will go out to look for another land.

But if every day, every hour you feel that you are destined for me with implacable sweetness.

If every day a flower rises to your lips to seek me, oh my love, oh mine, in me all that fire is repeated, in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten, my love is nourished by your love, beloved, and while you live it will be in your arms without leaving mine.