Como nasce um poema?

achei um sebo otimo aqui... com uma grande estante de poesia. E achei a Bishop, " Edgar Allan Poe & the Juke-box - Uncollected Poems, Drafts and Fragments." Fantastico o livro, tem varios poemas desconhecidos dela e, no final, um conjunto de fac-similes com todos os rascunhos de "One Art" da primeira versao (que reproduzo abaixo) ate a versao definitiva, publicada no The New Yorker, na edicao de 26 de Abril de 1976.

HOW TO LOSE THINGS? / THE GIFT OF LOSING THINGS

One might begin by losing one's reading glasses
oh 2 or 3 times a day - or one's favorite pen.

THE ART OF LOSING THINGS

The thing to do is to begin "mislaying".
Mostly, one begin by "mislaying":
keys, reading-glasses, fountain pens
- these are almost too easy to be mentioned,
and "mislaying" means that they usually turn up
in the most obvious place, although when one
is making progress, the places grow more unlikely
- This is by way of introduction. I really
want to introduce myself. I am such a
fantastic lly good at losing things
I think everyone shd. profit my experiences.

You may find it hard to believe, but I have actually lost
I mean lost, and forever, two whole houses,
one a very big one. A thir house, also big, is
at present, I think "mislaid" - but
maybe it's lost too. I won't know for sure for some time.
I have lost one peninsula and one island.
I have lost - it can never be has never been found -
a small-sized town on that same island.
I've lost smaller bits of geography, like
a splendid beach, and a good-sized bay.
Two whole cities, two of the
world's biggest cities (two of the most beautiful
although that's beside the point)
A piece of a continent
and one entire continent. All gone, gone forever and ever.

One might think this would have prepared for me
for losing one average-sized not exceptionally
beautiful or dazzling intelligent person
(excepto for blues eyes)
But it doesn't seem to have, at all...

a good piece of one continent
and another continent - the whole damned thing!
He who lose his life, etc. - but he who
loses his love - never, no never never never again.

Sobre Uma Arte

Releio um poema
querido
que me lembra:

"- A arte de perder não é nenhum mistério."*

Triste dizer
que perder só é fácil
em poema

Em prosa,
perder é sim
algo muito sério

Por isso o sorvete
de morfina existe
para que perder

seja menos triste e
sem dor eu aprenda
a perder em poema

Para que eu aprenda
a perder sem fazer
da perda prosa

Sem fazer da perda
prosa eu consiga
entender a sério

Por que a arte de
perder não é
nenhum mistério

(* verso de "Uma Arte" de Elizabeth Bishop, tradução de Paulo Henriques Britto)

Conversation

The tumult in the heart

keep asking questions.

And then it stops and undertakes to answer

in the same tone of voice.

No one could tell the difference.

Uninnocent, these conversations start,

and then engage the senses,

only half-meaning to.

And then there is no choice,

and then there is no sense;

until a name

and all its connotation are the same

Elizabeth Bishop

(O iceberg imaginário e outros poemas,
Ed. Cia das Letras, Org. Paulo Henriques Brito)

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