Flores Raras

---

The art of losing

isn't hard to master

So many things seem really

to be meant 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

Two verses

It feels incomplete, Elizabeth,

observations broken into lines.

The poem ends just where

it ought to be picking up steam.

I'm sorry.

No, no, you're right, Cal.

I'm tired.

I'll take a trip.

Ah, the geographic cure.

Terrific, except you

can't escape yourself.

Well, we'll see.

Fresh lands.

I'm getting nowhere here.

And I'm getting nowhere here.

I can't imagine life

without your weekly attacks

on my poetry and virtue.

Virtue

That's good, that's good.

Let's go.

Listen, Lowell...

If anything happens

to me when I'm away

I want you to write my epitaph,

and I want you to say

I was the loneliest person

who ever lived.

For Christ's sake, Elizabeth,

why the hell would you

say something like that

Oh, you know, Cal...

Just a momentary lapse

into melancholy drama

before the first libation

of the day.

Plaza

Sure.

Did we cross the equator yet

It's about a minute to go.

I'll ring the bell.

- Thank you very much.

- Sure.

Did we miss it

I'm afraid so,

but it wasn't much, really -

just a slight bump.

How did we get here so fast

Really, such indecent haste.

Thank you.

See her

There she is!

Elizabeth Bishop,

welcome to Brazil.

Thank you.

Elizabeth.

How are you, Mary

Never better.

The traffic was awful.

We thought we'd miss you.

Lota drove

like an absolute terror.

Let's go, let's go, girls!

Welcome to Samambaia.

This is Joaninha,

my guardian angel,

my black sister.

She's saying welcome.

- Thank you.

- We say, Obrigada.

Obrigada.

Excuse me.

That's the new house

Lota is building us.

Long way from Vassar, huh

It certainly is.

How are your parents

We don't speak.

What happened

I live with a woman.

They know

They found out.

They say I'm dead to them.

I'm sorry.

This is my home now.

That's a Maria Leontina,

Lota's favorite painter.

How is it... here

We are discreet in Rio,

but up here

no one bothers us much.

I think it's beyond

their imagination.

Mine too.

No, no, no.

You don't have to do that.

Mary.

Still dancing

Still training.

It seems to be keeping

you in good shape.

Oh Elizabeth, really...

Anyway, it's all yours.

The room, that is...

Mary, come on, let's go up!

This is me...

I designed this all myself!

Every inch of it.

You see the stones

I kept the moss on them.

Did you notice

the shape of the ceiling

It follows the mountains.

It must been a lot of work.

It was a lot of fun, Elizabeth.

It's like being outside,

isn't it

What an adorable cat.

Does he have a name

No, he's just a stray.

Come here, I want to

show you something.

Now that is marvelous.

It looks like

a modern sculpture.

You should leave it

just like that.

It is just like that.

It's only for three days.

You can put up with an old

friend of mine for that long.

Does today count as day one

Ow!

How close were you in college

We were both very busy,

pretending not to be

who we were

while being attracted

to each other

for what we thought

the other might be.

Well, that doesn't quite

answer the question.

No, we didn't...

But it was close.

She's so blas.

She is stuck up, defensive.

She is shy...

Brilliant...

Deceptively funny...

Dangerous.

Dangerous

There was this boy

who was crazy for her.

I don't know

what she did to him,

but he sent her a postcard

saying "Go to hell, Elizabeth."

My, God, I'm so impressed.

And then he killed himself.

Excuse me.

No.

But this is

a very good Bordeaux.

Not today, thank you.

Would you care

for some water, Elizabeth

Can you drink the water here

Oh, yes, it's from our spring.

Is it mineral

No, darling, it's fresh water.

That's Farofa,

traditional Brazilian food.

It's delicious.

Hey, you're pushing away

the best part.

I'm allergic to nuts.

That could be

a problem in Brazil.

And Rio, do you like it

Well, I didn't get to see much,

but it sort of seemed like

a cross between

Mexico City and Miami.

A toast, to the inaugural meal

of the most amazing

house in Petropolis!

No one but you

could have done this, Lota.

Here, here.

No, no, no, don't do that.

Don't toast with water,

it's bad luck.

Trust me, it's worse luck

if it's not water.

It is so peaceful

on the ceiling

It is the Place de la Concorde

The little

crystal chandelier is off

The fountain's in the dark

Not a soul is in the park

I can't believe you know that.

I may be a politician,

but that doesn't mean I can't

love poetry as well as power.

We must go under the wallpaper

to meet the insect-gladiator

To battle

with a net and trident...

But I forget how it ends.

Please.

No, I can't.

Please, Miss Bishop.

I'm sorry, I just... can't.

And leave the fountain

and the square

But, oh, that we

could sleep up there

Bravo.

Excuse me.

Why wouldn't you finish your

poem when Carlos asked you

He was in awe of you.

It was rude.

I'm not a performer.

No, you are imperious,

you are aloof...

and drink good whiskey alone.

I'm... sorry.

We can't all be as proud

of our work as you are.

No, really,

I find it so admirable -

"I designed all this myself,

every inch of it."

Me

I hear one of my poems,

and I'm... mortified.

Observations broken into lines.

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