|
|
|
geschrieben am: 31.08.2002 um 19:23 Uhr
|
|
The Raven
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary
over many a quaint and curios volume of forgotten lore.
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
as of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door."
"Some late visitor, tapping at my chamber door, merely this,"
"And nothing more"
Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
and each separate dying amber wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow, vainly I had sought to borrow,
from my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Leonore.
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore,
Nameless here for ever more
Presently my soul grew stronger, hesitating then no longer,
"Sir, " said I, or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore"
"But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came tapping,"
"And so faintly you came rapping, rapping at my chamber door,"
"That I scarce was sure I heard you." Here I opened wide the door
Darkness there, and nothing more
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing,
doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
and the only word there spoken was the whispered word "Lenore".
This is whispered, and an echo murmered back the word "Lenore",
Only this, and nothing more
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
soon I heard again a tapping, somewhat louder than before.
"Surely, " said I, " surely, that is something at my window lattice,"
"let me see, then, what thereat is and this mystery explore,"
"let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore,
"'Tis the wind, and nothing more"
Open here I flung the shutter, when with many a flirt and flutter,
in there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obiescence made he, not an instant stopped or stayed he,
but with mien of Lord or Lady perched above my chamber door.
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
by the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou, ", I said, " art sure no craven,"
"ghastly, grim and ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore."
"Tell me what thy lordly name is on the night's Plutonian shore."
Quoth the raven: "Nevermore".
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
though ist answer little meaning, little relevancy bore.
For we cannot help agreeing, that no living human being
ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door,
bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door
With such name as Nevermore
But the raven sitting lonely on the placid bust spoke only
that one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered, not a feather then he fluttered,.
Till I scarcely more than muttered: "Other friends have flown before. "
"On the morrow, he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said: "Nevermore". |
|
|
|
|
