One's loss isn't hard to master;
Many things are filled with the intent
To be a loss and that loss is no disaster.
I lose something every day. I accept the angre
Of lost shoes, though a hour flys by.
One's loss isn't hard to master.
Then I practice losing less, but losing faster:
Jewelry, and makeup, and where it was last
Is no longer there. but none of this will bring disaster.
I lost my phone! And look! my last, or
Next-to-last, of 6 hours went by.
One's loss isn't hard to master.
I lost 2 countries, beautiful ones. And infinite,
Numbers or cities I owned,2 oceans, a continent.
I miss it dearly, but it wasn't a disaster.
Even losing love isn't hard to master
I shouldn't have lied. It's a disaster
One's losing's is not too hard to master.
Though it may look like a disaster.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem