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Average rating3.3
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Reviews with the most likes.
Well, now,if little by little you stop loving meI shall stop loving you little by little. If suddenlyyou forget medo not look for me,for I shall already have forgotten you. If you think it long and mad,the wind of bannersthat passes through my life,and you decideto leave me at the shoreof the heart where I have roots,rememberthat on that day,at that hour,I shall lift my armsand my roots will set offto seek another land.
The closest I've come to actually enjoying poetry (still not very much, but noteworthy nonetheless).
“I want to lie, my love, the tears now cast
into the raucous basket where they gather,
I want to lie, my love, alone with a syllable
of destroyed silver, alone with a tip
of your snowy breast.” - Pablo Neruda