Something Old... and Borrowed from Elizabeth Bishop

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 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.

Arta de a pierde
A pierde nu-i o artă grea, se ştie;
atîtea să se piardă par a vrea,
că a le pierde nu-i o tragedie.
Să pierzi mereu ceva. Firesc să-ţi fie
cînd pierzi ba chei, ba timp asemenea.
A pierde nu-i o artă grea, se ştie.
Apoi să pierzi cu-avînt, cu dibăcie,
să te-antrenezi uitînd cît poţi uita:
neamintirea nu-i o tragedie.
Eu ceasul mamei l-am pierdut. Şi scrie
alt nume pe ce case-aş mai avea.
A pierde nu-i o artă grea, se ştie.
Pierdui vreo trei cetăţi, o-mpărăţie,
fiefuri, rîuri, avuţia mea...
Îmi cam lipsesc, dar nu-i o tragedie.
Chiar cînd pe tine te-am pierdut (iar mie
mi-erai atît!), să mint nu aş putea,
a pierde nu-i o artă grea, se ştie,
chiar cînd ar fi (cînd este!) tragedie.