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.

                                         -- Elizabeth Bishop

i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate, my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

--e.e.cummings

These two poems are extracted from the movie shot last year “in her shoes”. It’s a film about loss and recovery of love. Although it seems melodramatic and comic to the total effect, its touch on our vulnerability to easily-split-up relationship and death and remoteness of souls arouses a bit heavy tone. How to reach each other? E.M.Forster suggests: only connect. On most occasions, we know clearly how precious a trustworthy relationship is and how wretched a lonely life is. But we just fail to figure it out straight and greet every unwelcome trouble with perseverance and love. We mean to reject, to hide from possible mess, to be indifferent. We lament our loss and can’t make it up ever since. Then life becomes pathetic.

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