Poe's The Raven, via Baudelaire via Google Translate

"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly asleep, suddenly there came a tapping, As of hitting someone gently, rapping at my chamber door. 'Tis some visitor, - I muttered, - tapping at my chamber door; it is only that and nothing more. "

Ah! distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each brand embroidered in turn reflects the floor of his agony. Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly had I sought to borrow From my books surcease to my sorrow, my sorrow for the lost Lenore For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore - here we Nameless forever more.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain penetrated me, filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating " This is some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door, Some late visitor seeking entry lingered at the door of my room - this is the same, and nothing more. "

Right now my soul grew stronger. Hesitating then no longer, "Sir,- I say, - or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; but the fact is I was napping, and you so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came to knock at the door of my room, barely I was sure I heard you. "And 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 stillness gave no token , and the only word there spoken was the whispered word "Lenore! "- This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word," Lenore! "- Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burned, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than the first. "Surely, - I say, - surely that is something at my window lattice; see then what it is, and this mystery explore.Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore - it's the wind, and nothing more. "


I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore. He did not make the least obeisance, he did not stop, he did not hesitate one minute, 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, about the seriousness of its maintenance and severity of his countenance, beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, "Though thy head, - I said - is shorn and crest, you don ' art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the shores of the night. Tell me what thy lordly name of the Night's Plutonian shore! "Quoth the Raven," Nevermore! "

Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so easily speak, although his answer would not have any great meaning to me and was not of much help, for we must agree that he was never given to a man living of seeing bird above his chamber door, a Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, calling themselves a name as Nevermore

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if in that one word he did outpour his soul. He uttered nothing more he did not move a feather, - until I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have flown away from me toward the morning, too, he will leave me as my hopes have flown before. "Then the bird said" Nevermore! "

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so thrown opportunely: "No doubt - I say, - what he utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master the merciless Woe ardently pursued, relentlessly, until his songs had only one refrain, until the De Profundis of his Hope that melancholy burden bore Of Never, never again!

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled away a seat cushions in front of bird and bust and door; Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking Nevermore

I sat, engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my heart; I tried to guess that, and more, my head resting in the comfortable on the cushion's velvet lining that caressed the light of the lamp, purple velvet caressed by the lamplight that his head, She shall press - ah! nevermore!

Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch! - I cried, - thy God hath lent thee by these angels he hath sent thee Respite respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore! Quaff, oh! quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore! "Quoth the Raven," Nevermore! "


"Prophet! - I say, - of evil! bird or devil, but always Prophet! you to be Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I'll Please, is there, is there balm in Gilead? Quoth the raven, I beg you! "Quoth the Raven," Nevermore! "

"Prophet! - I say, - of evil! bird or devil! prophet still! by Heaven that bends above us, by that God we both adore, Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, in the distant Paradise, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore, Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore. "Quoth the Raven," Nevermore! "

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or devil! - I yelled at myself up. - Go into the storm, returned to the shore of the Night's Plutonian Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken leave my loneliness unbroken leaves thisbust above my door Take thy beak from out my heart and rush your spectrum from off my door! "Quoth the Raven," Nevermore! "

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door, and his eyes have all the seeming of a demon that is dreaming, And the light of the lamp, o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor and my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted - nevermore!