One Art (Badly Translation)

by Wayne Lee
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                                                                                ~after Elizabeth Bishop

 

Isn’t the art that it loses with difficulty to control?
Thus a lot they appear things full of the attempt
which one lose that to be loss is absolutely no calamity.

Something loses each day. Now it accepts the fluster
that is lost keys in the door, the badly last hour.
The art of the loss is not necessary only to examine.

Then practically that he loses further, by losing more rapidly:
Place and name and where you stated to shift you.
Art to of losing is not hard dominate.

I have lost the cheek of my mother. And kept in the eye!
My lasts, or according to this there in the past,
three they are the houses they liked of the loss for it not with difficulty examines.

I lost, more beautifully the two cities those.
And a little more enormously the two rivers, which exist continuously.
I ignore it, but each disaster was not.

Loser you (the humoristic lose voice, a love of the gesture I)
I will not have lain. The art should not of course
lose also with the difficulty it is dominated
even if it can maintain (inscribe!) as the destruction.
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Wayne Lee lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Lee’s poems have appeared in such magazines as Pontoon, Tupelo Press, The New Mexico Poetry Review, Slipstream, and other journals and anthologies.

He was awarded the 2012 Fischer Prize and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and three Best of the Net Awards.

His collection “The Underside of Light” was a finalist for the 2014 New Mexico/Arizona Book Award. He is currently working on a memoir and a full-length collection of septets.