Эдгар По. Ворон (в различных переводах)
The Raven
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 napping, suddenly there came
a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my
chamber door -
'"Tis some visiter", I muttered, "tapping at my chamber
door -
Only this and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember 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 Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels
name Lenore -
Nameless _here_ for evermore.
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple
curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never
felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood
repeating
"Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber
door -
Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber
door; -
This it is and nothing 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
rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping 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 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
burning,
Soon again I heard 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 obeisance made he; not a minute 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
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