Thursday, October 14, 2010

One Art

Perdemos muitas pessoas durante a vida e não só quando elas morrem. Pessoas mais ou menos importantes, mas que de repente notamos "já cá não estão". Ou porque morreram, ou porque desistiram de nós, ou porque nós desistimos delas.

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster,

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three beloved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

-- Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) a disaster.

Elizabeth Bishop

1 comment:

  1. belíssimo poema. optima escolha. I lost my mother's watch and two cities; I owned one river