se llaman Matías
tres de mis argentinas
se llaman Lu
servicio de guardarropía
para Santos, por si a la vuelta de sus vacaciones en la era preindustrial decide pasar por aquí... Parece que Santos pasó por aquí, parece que Santos no dejó huellas de su paso por aquí, ¡bien detectiveado Lindsberg!
Gran verdad existencial nº112: ese poema que tanto te gusta no lo escribieron pensando en ti (ese poema que tanto me gusta no lo escribió pensando en mi)...
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 loved 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!) like disaster
Elisabeth Bishop
Por los perdidos, por los perdientes, ¡ya es 2008! , que la incertidumbre nos sea favorable, ¿no?