Edgar Allan Poe

Stînd, cîndva, la miez de noapte, istovit, furat de șoapte Din oracole cețoase, cărți cu tîlc tulburător, Piroteam, uitînd de toate, cînd

De mult, de demult, pe-ai Timpului pași, Într-un ținut de miază-zi, O fată trăia, c-un nume gingaș: Cu numele Annabel Lee. Și ea trăia c-un

I. Clopoței de sanie, Clopoței de-argint! O, ce lume de-ncântări e-n duiosul lor alint! Cum clinchesc, clinchesc, clinchesc, În văzduhul nopții

Corbul

Leit în fier, Un cavaler Voios a apucat-o, Pe nori, pe vânt, Cântând un cânt, Pe drum,

Cavaler vestit Și vesel gătit, Pe drum a apucat-o, Prin umbră și prin soare, Cântând cântări ușoare, Să caute-Eldorado. Însă-mbătrâni Cavaler

Moartea Roșie pustiise multă vreme ținutul. O molimă mai hâdă și mai fără de leac nu se mai po¬menise. Sângele i-a fost Avatarul și pecetea roșeața

Într-o noapte-ntunecoasă, istovit, ședeam la masă Cu străvechi volume-n față, cugetând asupra lor, Și pe-o carte cam ciudată ațipii, când

Dar ce spun? Ce spune Cugetul cumplit, Acest strigoi în calea mea? W. CHAMBERLAYNE - \"Pharonnida\" Fie-mi îngăduit să mă numesc

Cum simt că prin a stelelor lucire, Când îngerii cu șoapta lor se cheamă, Nu pot găsi un termen de iubire Un altul mai sublim decât de

Tu mi-erai totul, dragoste, Al sufletului har, Un verde ostrov în mare, dragoste, Fântână și altar, Încins cu poame dulci și flori, Flori ale

Era de ziua nunții tale, Când viu se-aprinse chipul tău, Deși norocu-ți zâmbea în cale, Și lumea, doar iubire-n jurul tău. Și-n ochi o

“− Ascultă-mă pe mine! îmi zise Demonul, punîndu-mi mîna pe cap. Þinutul despre care îți vorbesc e un jalnic și întunecat ținut din Libia, pe

Cateva seri mai tarziu m-am intins in pat pentru odihna de noapte.Si acum in ultimii ani capatasem obiceiul ca,inainte de a inchide ochii si de a ma

Egli e vivo e parlerebbe se non osservasse la rigola del silentio. Inscripție sub o pictură italiană a Sf. Bruno Castelul în care valetul meu se

Priviți! Moartea un tron și-a durat Într-o cetate din acel îndepărtat, Singur și întunecos Apus, Unde cei răi și cei buni, cei de jos, cei de

Impia tortorum longas hic turba furores Sanguinis innocui, nom satiata, aluit. Sospite nune patria, fracto nune funeris antro, Mors ubi

„Chiar de-aș umbla pe valea Umbrei ...” Psalmii lui David Voi, cei care azi citiți, mai sunteți încă printre cei vii; dar eu, cel care scriu,

Restriștea are multe chipuri. Felurite sunt nenorocirile pe pământ, încununând ca un curcubeu nemărginita zare, culorile lor sunt tot atât de

Cea mai mîndră zi, cel mai mîndru ceas, Inima-mi veștedă le-a cunoscut: De-avînt și de mărire visu-mi treaz, O știu, a trecut! Ce-avînt, am

Ai vrea să fii iubită?- atunci inima ta Poteca ei de-acum să nu o părăsească; Te țină așa cum ești fără a te-ndepărta Și de tot ce nu ești să te

Elena, frumusețea ta îmi pare ......Ca vechile corăbii niceene, Care, pe-o blândă \'nmiresmată mare, ......Drumețul ostenit duceau,

Nu-mi pasa daca soarta mea pe pamant Putin din Pamant a avut Si daca ani de iubire s-au frant In ura unui minut: Si nici ma plang daca cei

Con tal que las costumbres de un autor, zice Don Thomas De Las Torres în precuvîntare la ale sale Poeme de dragoste, sean puras y castas, importa muy

Era în mijlocul verii Și la mijlocul nopții era; Stelele-n stinse orbite Sclipeau palide, căci lumina Mai strălucit luna rece, de gheață, Care

Poate că niciodată un astfel de spectacol n-a atras într-o atât de mare măsură atenția tuturor ca Jucătorul de șah al lui Maelzel. Oriunde a fost

Pestis eram vivus — moriens tua mors ero. Martin Luther Groaza și fatalitatea au stăpânit în toate timpurile. Pentru ce să datez, deci,

Puțini sunt aceia, chiar printre cugetătorii cei mai cumpăniți, care să nu fi fost surprinși uneori de o credință sfielnică, nedeslușită și totuși

Castelul meu caruia veletul meu a cutezat sa-i forteze intrarea mai degraba decat sa-mi ingaduie, in starea jalnica in care ma aflam, sa petrec o

Moartea Roșie pustiise multă vreme ținutul. O molimă mai hâdă și mai fără de leac nu se mai po¬menise. Sângele i-a fost Avatarul și pecetea roșeața

Impia tortorum longas hic turba furores Sanguinis innocui, nom satiata, aluit. Sospite nune patria, fracto nune funeris antro, Mors ubi dira

Muchos, muchos años atrás, en un reino junto al mar turquí vivía una doncella a quien quizá conozcáis, llamada Annabel Lee, que tenía en la vida

Cierta medianoche aciaga, cuando, con la mente cansada, meditaba sobre varios libracos de sabiduría ancestral y asentía, adormecido, de pronto se oyó

¡Recibe en la frente este beso! Y, por librarme de un peso antes de partir, confieso que acertaste si creías que han sido un sueño mis

Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow- You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a

In visions of the dark night I have dreamed of joy departed- But a waking dream of life and light Hath left me broken-hearted. Ah! what is not a

By a route obscure and lonely, Haunted by ill angels only, Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT, On a black throne reigns upright, I have reached these

From childhood\'s hour I have not been As others were, I have not seen As others saw, I could not bring My passions from a common spring. From

¡Es cierto! Siempre he sido nervioso, muy nervioso, terriblemente nervioso. ¿Pero por qué afirman ustedes que estoy loco? La enfermedad había

Ah, broken is the golden bowl! the spirit flown forever! Let the bell toll!- a saintly soul floats on the Stygian river; And, Guy de Vere, hast

Gaily bedight, A gallant knight, In sunshine and in shadow, Had journeyed long, Singing a song, In search of Eldorado. But he grew old- This

No espero ni pido que alguien crea en el extraño aunque simple relato que me dispongo a escribir. Loco estaría si lo esperara, cuando mis

\"Seldom we find,\" says Solomon Don Dunce, \"Half an idea in the profoundest sonnet. Through all the flimsy things we see at once As easily as

For her this rhyme is penned, whose luminous eyes, Brightly expressive as the twins of Leda, Shall find her own sweet name, that nestling

It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden lived whom you may know By the name of ANNABEL LEE; - And

Es ist lange her, da lebte am Meer, Ich sag euch nicht wo und wie – Ein Mägdelein zart, von seltener Art, Mit Namen Annabel Lee. Und das

Oh! that my young life were a lasting dream! My spirit not awakening, till the beam Of an Eternity should bring the morrow. Yes! tho\' that long

ELEONORA by Edgar Allan Poe (1850) Sub conservatione formae specificae salva anima. RAYMOND LULLY. I AM come of a race noted

The ring is on my hand, And the wreath is on my brow; Satin and jewels grand Are all at my command, And I am happy now. And my lord he loves me

BERENICE by Edgar Allan Poe (1835) Dicebant mihi sodales, si sepulchrum amicae visitarem, curas meas aliquantulum fore levatas.

Elizabeth, it surely is most fit [Logic and common usage so commanding] In thy own book that first thy name be writ, Zeno and other sages

MORELLA by Edgar Allan Poe Itself, by itself, solely, one everlasting, and single. PLATO: SYMPOS. WITH a feeling of deep yet

Romance, who loves to nod and sing, With drowsy head and folded wing, Among the green leaves as they shake Far down within some shadowy lake, To

\"Siope. A Fable\" (B), The Baltimore Book, 1838 \"Silence\" (E), The Works of the Late Edgar Allan Poe, 1850 \'Eudosin d\'orheon korhuphai

Impia tortorum longos hic turba furores Sanguinis innocui, non satiata, aluit. Sospite nunc patria, fracto nunc funeris antro, Mors ubi dira

Son coeur est un luth suspendu; Sitot qu\'on le touche il resonne. De Beranger. DURING the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the

La \"Muerte Roja\" había devastado el país durante largo tiempo. Jamás una peste había sido tan fatal y tan espantosa. La sangre era encarnación

Because I feel that, in the Heavens above, The angels, whispering to one another, Can find, among their burning terms of love, None so devotional

THE MOST notorious ill-fortune must in the end yield to the untiring courage of philosophy–as the most stubborn city to the ceaseless vigilance of an

What song the Syrens sang, or what name Achilles assumed when he hid himself among women, although puzzling questions are not beyond all conjecture.

True! --nervous --very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses --not

The red death had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal -- the madness

The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult I vowed revenge. You, who so well know the nature of

\'Twas noontide of summer, And mid-time of night; And stars, in their orbits, Shone pale, thro\' the light Of the brighter, cold moon, \'Mid

Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean barks of yore, That gently, o\'er a perfumed sea, The weary, way-worn wanderer bore To

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

Dim vales- and shadowy floods- And cloudy-looking woods, Whose forms we can\'t discover For the tears that drip all over! Huge moons there wax

In the greenest of our valleys By good angels tenanted, Once a fair and stately palace- Radiant palace- reared its head. In the monarch

The noblest name in Allegory\'s page, The hand that traced inexorable rage; A pleasing moralist whose page refined, Displays the deepest

C’était il y a bien longtemps Dans un royaume près de la mer, Une jeune demoiselle vivait là comme vous pouvez le savoir Sous le nom d’Annabel

In Heaven a spirit doth dwell \"Whose heart-strings are a lute\"; None sing so wildly well As the angel Israfel, And the giddy stars (so legends

Thy soul shall find itself alone \'Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone; Not one, of all the crowd, to pry Into thine hour of secrecy. Be

Type of the antique Rome! Rich reliquary Of lofty contemplation left to Time By buried centuries of pomp and power! At length- at length- after

In youth\'s spring, it was my lot To haunt of the wide earth a spot The which I could not love the less; So lovely was the loneliness Of a

At midnight, in the month of June, I stand beneath the mystic moon. An opiate vapor, dewy, dim, Exhales from out her golden rim, And, softly

Fair river! in thy bright, clear flow Of crystal, wandering water, Thou art an emblem of the glow Of beauty- the unhidden heart- The playful

I Hear the sledges with the bells- Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy

The happiest day- the happiest hour My sear\'d and blighted heart hath known, The highest hope of pride and power, I feel hath flown. Of power!

Lo! \'tis a gala night Within the lonesome latter years! An angel throng, bewinged, bedight In veils, and drowned in tears, Sit in a theatre, to

O! I care not that my earthly lot Hath little of Earth in it, That years of love have been forgot In the fever of a minute: I heed not

Lo! Death has reared himself a throne In a strange city lying alone Far down within the dim West, Where the good and the bad and the worst and

I saw thee on thy bridal day- When a burning blush came o\'er thee, Though happiness around thee lay, The world all love before thee: And in

Thou wast all that to me, love, For which my soul did pine-- A green isle in the sea, love, A fountain and a

Once it smiled a silent dell Where the people did not dwell; They had gone unto the wars, Trusting to the mild-eyed stars, Nightly, from their

So sweet the hour, so calm the time, I feel it more than half a crime, When Nature sleeps and stars are mute, To mar the silence ev\'n with

Dicebant mihi sodales, si sepulchrum amicae visitarem, curas meas aliquantulum forelevatas. - Ebn Zaiat. MISERY is manifold. The wretchedness

Romanza, che ami annuire e cantare col capo assonnato e le ali ripiegate, tra verdi fronde, quali agita nel suo fondo un ombroso lago, fu per

Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow- You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a

Ah broken is the golden bowl! the spirit flown forever! Let the bell toll! a saintly soul floats on the Stygian river; And, Guy De Vere, hast thou

It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of ANNABEL LEE;-- And

From childhood\'s hour I have not been As others were; I have not seen As others saw; I could not bring My passions from a common spring. From

Gaily bedight, A gallant knight, In sunshine and in shadow, Had journeyed long, Singing a song, In search of Eldorado. But he

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

In spring of youth it was my lot To haunt of the wide world a spot The which I could not love the less- So lovely was the loneliness Of a wild

Thou wast all that to me, love, For which my soul did pine- A green isle in the sea, love, A fountain and a shrine, All wreathed with fairy

Thou wast all that to me, love, For which my soul did pine-- A green isle in the sea, love, A fountain and a

Once it smiled a silent dell Where the people did not dwell; They had gone unto the wars, Trusting to the mild-eyed stars, Nightly, from their

I. Hear the sledges with the bells-- Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How

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

Lo! Death has reared himself a throne In a strange city lying alone Far down within the dim West, Where the good and the bad and the worst and the

From childhood\'s hour I have not been As others were; I have not seen As others saw; I could not bring My passions from a common spring. From

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

Thou wast all that to me, love, For which my soul did pine-- A green isle in the sea, love, A fountain and a

From childhood\'s hour I have not been As others were; I have not seen As others saw; I could not bring My passions from a common

Thou wast all that to me, love, For which my soul did pine-- A green isle in the sea, love, A fountain and a

It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of ANNABEL LEE;-- And this