HOW THE BLACK STALLION FORGETS paintography by Michael (miguel) Forbus INTRODUCTION TO PABLO NERUDA'S POEM BY MICHAEL (miguel) FORBUS THE BLACK STALLION FORGETS SHORTLY AFTER THE FIGHT THE PALOMINO THAT HE HAS RUN FROM HIS HERD, HE SOON FORGETS THE SCARS OF BATTLE, THE PAIN OF HOOF PRINTS ON HIS FLANK. HE SOON FORGETS WHICH MARE HE TOOK IN THE MOONLIGHT LAST NIGHT AND WHAT IT FELT LIKE TO HIM. THE WILD STALLION HAS LITTLE MEMORY AND ONLY FEELINGS OF THE INSTANCE. SOMETIMES I FEEL THAT HUMANS ARE LIKE THIS. THAT WE LIVE IN A DISPOSABLE SOCIETY. OUR FRIENDS, FAMILY, MEMORIES, THE LOVES OF OUR LIVES, CAN BE FORGOTTEN BY THE SLIGHTEST DISTRACTION. THE WARS WE HAVE FOUGHT, THE DEAD WE HAVE BURIED, WE GO DAYS WITHOUT THEIR MEMORIES. FOR SOME REASON I CANNOT LIVE LIKE THIS. I REMEMBER EVER WORD SOMEONE SAYS TO ME IN ANGER AND LOVE, I REMEMBER EVERY TIME THERE IS DISCORD AND THE DISAGREEMENT OF NO ACCOUNT. I RECALL THE BEAUTY OF LOVE'S FIRST BLOOM AND THE DEPTH OF THE FIRST MEETING OF LIPS ON LIPS AND THE FIRST ROSE AFTER WINTER, IT'S PERFUME RESTS IN MY NOSE AND IN MY MEMORY. I REMEMBER FRIENDS THAT HAVE CALLED ME BEST FRIEND AND HAVE HUGGED ME CHEST TO CHEST AND I WILL NEVER FORGET THAT FEELING OF CLOSENESS. THESE ARE ALL THINGS THAT I ONCE FORGOT AND NOW HAVE COME BACK TO BLESS ME. I CHOOSE TO REMEMBER ALL THINGS IN MY LIFE, GOOD OR BAD. THEY ARE ALL PART OF MY SOUL AND PART OF WHAT MAKES ME MIGUEL AND ALL OF YOU WHO READ THIS, I WILL REMEMBER THAT ON THIS DAY, A SUNDAY, YOU READ MY POEM AND I WAS HONORED THAT YOU DID AND I WILL REMEMBER EACH BRUSH STROKE THAT YOU PAINTED AND EACH WORD, EACH GRACIOUS WORD THAT YOU UTTERED ABOUT MY PAINTINGS AND MY WORDS. I WILL NEVER FORGET. WRITTEN BY MIGUEL IF YOU FORGET ME written by PABLO NERUDA 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