There Are Four of Us
Herewith I solemnly renounce my hoard
of earthly goods, whatever counts as chattel.
The genius and guardian angel of this place
has changed to an old tree-stump in the water.
Earth takes us in awhile as transient guests;
we live by habit, which we must unlearn.
On paths of air I seem to overhear
two friends, two voices, talking in their turn.
Did I say two? . . . There by the eastern wall,
where criss-cross shoots of brambles trail,
-- Oh look! -- that fresh dark elderberry branch
is like a letter from Marina in the mail.
~November 1961
I think of all the Akhmatova poems that I've blogged, this may be my favorite, so far. Four of them: Anna, the voices of her two old friends, and the elderberry branch.
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