Den här lilla underfundiga villanellan verkar var skriven till mig speciellt – jag är känd i bekantskapskretsen som hon som tappar bort nycklar, handväskan, mobilen. Nu har också namn, slumpmässiga ord, vad jag gjorde nyss börjat försvinna …

Det finns en del av och om Elisabeth Bishop i handeln – men jag hittar ingen översättning (?)

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 mothers 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