Quote:
steam rising
from a tea-cup
4am
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More on 4 a.m. . . .
I'm sorry, it wasn't Akhmatova, it was Szymborska. This is from Milosz's anthology, A BOOK OF LUMINOUS THINGS:
"Four in the Morning"
The hour from night to day.
The hour from side to side.
The hour for those past thirty.
The hour swept clean by the crowing of cocks.
The hour when earth betrays us.
The hour when the wind blows fom extinguished stars.
The hour of and-what-if-nothing-remains-after-us.
The hollow hour.
Blank, empty.
The very pit of all other hours.
No one feels good at four in the morning.
If ants feel good at four in the morning
--three cheers for the ants. And let five o'clock come
if we're to go on living.
(trans. Krynski & Maguire)
for another view of 4 a.m., see Philip Larkin's "Aubade", which begins:
I work all day, and get half-drunk at night.
Waking at four to soundless dark . . .
Lee