Edgar Allan Poe›Poezii

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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