Edgar Allan Poe

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 someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“Tis some visitor”, 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 vaonly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease to 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:
”This some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door –
Some late visitor 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 gently you came rapping, 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 mortals 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 something 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 stipped 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.

Ten this ebony bird beguilling 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 say, “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 its 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 uttered: “Other friends have flown before –
On the morrow he will leave me as my Hopes have flown before”.
Then the bird said, “Nevermore”.

Startled at the stillness broken my reply so aptly spoken,

”Doubtless”, said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore –
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden have
Of ’Never-nevermore’”

But the Raven still beguilling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking ehat this ominous bird of yore –
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking “Nevermore”.

Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Separhim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tifted 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 that lost Lenore!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore”.

”Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil – prophet still, if bird or devil –

Whether 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 implore –
Is there – is there balm in Gilead? – tell me – tell me, I implore!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore”.

”Prophet”, said I, “thing of evil – prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that heaven that bends above us – by that God we both adore –
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
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 friend!” I shrieked, upstarting –
”Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie zhy soul hath spoken!
Leave my lonelyness unbroken – quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form 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’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming thorws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted – nevermore!
 Edgar Alan Po
GAVRAN

Jednom u ~as tu`an no}ni, dok razmi{qah, duh nemo}ni

Nad kwigama koje drevnu nauku u sebe skri{e,
Bejah skoro u san pao, a neko je na prag stao
I tiho je zakucao, kucnuo {to mo`e ti{e.
”Posetilac neki”, {apnuh, “kucnuo {to mo`e ti{e,
Samo to i ni{ta vi{e”.

Ah, se}am se toga jasno, be{e zimwe ve~e kasno;

Svaki tiwav odsev `ara utvare na podu pi{e.
Dan ~ekaju}’, srce sna`im, u kwigama zalud tra`im
Za Lenorom bol da bla`im. Ime koje podari{e
Woj an|eli, divna draga kojoj ime podari{e
An|eli – we nema vi{e.

I {um svilen, {umor tmurni, {um zavesa tih purpurnih,

Neslu}enom, ~udnom strepwom obuzima sve me vi{e;
Da umirim srce rekoh: “To zacelo sad je neko
Na pragu se mome stek’o, kucnuv{i {to mo`e ti{e,
Posetilac neki pozni, zakuca {to mo`e ti{e
Na vrata i ni{ta vi{e”.

Najednom mi strepwa minu i zure}i u tamninu:

”Gosparu il’ gospo”, kazah, “ne qutite vi se vi{e,
Bejah skoro u san pao, neko od vas na prag stao
I tiho je zakucao, kucnuo {to mo`e ti{e,
Da i ne ~uh…” Tad mi ruke vrata {irom otvori{e –
Samo mrak i ni{ta vi{e.

I dok pogled tamom bludi, bojazan mi puni grudi,

Slu{aju}i, sawaju}i, snovi mi se te{ki sni{e,
I zagledan u ti{inu, samohranu pustu tminu,
”O, Lenora” re~ jedinu, izgovorih tiho, ti{e,
”O, Lenora” odjek vrati {to mi usta prozbori{e –
Samo to i ni{ta vi{e.

Vratih se u sobu svoju, a du{a u nepokoju.

I uskoro ne{to ja~i udarci se ponovi{e.
”Na prozoru, u kapcima, mora biti nekog ima,
Miruj srce, da u wima vidim kakvu tajnu skri{e.
Miruj srce, da uvidim kakvu tajnu oni skri{e –
Vetar samo, ni{ta vi{e!
 I otvorih kapke tada, kad ulete iznenada
Lepr{aju}’ gordi Gavran iz dana {to sre}ni bi{e,
Gospodski ga izgled krasi, pozdravom se ne oglasi,
Niti zasta, nit’ se skrasi, dok mu krila se ne svi{e
Povrh vrata, na Paladin kip mu krila se ne svi{e.
Slete, stade, ni{ta vi{e.

Vide}’ ticu abonosnu, osmeh tu`no srce kosnu,

Zbog va`nog i strogog sklada, kojim lik joj sav odi{e.
”Mada }ube ~erupane”, rekoh, “pla{qiv nisi vrane,
[to sablasan traje{ dane sred `alova no}i, ki{e –
Ka`i kakvim imenom te sile pakla okrsti{e?”
Re~e Gavran: “Nikad vi{e”.

Za~udih se vesma tome, odgovoru prejasnome,

Mada smislom re~i ove meni malo jasne bi{e;
Al’ priznajem, nema zbora, ne ~uh takvog odgovora,
I ne videh takva stvora crnih krila {to se svi{e,
Zver il’ ticu ~ija krila na Paladin kip se svi{e,
S tim iemnom: ’Nikad vi{e’.

No Gavranu s kipa bela ta re~ be{e mudrost cela,

Re~ jedina s kojom mu se misao i du{a sli{e.
Nit’ re~ju tom zbor mu presta, nit’ poma~e on se s meta,
A u meni sumwe nesta: “Svi me znanci ostavi{e,
Odlete}e i on ko i Nade {to me ostavi{e”.
Re~e Gavran: “Nikad vi{e”.

^uv{i, duhom sav uzbu|en, taj odgovor brz, rasu|en,

”Stvarno”, kazah, “to {to zbori, te dve re~i: ’Nikad vi{e’,
Vaqda re~e wegov gazda. Zlom sudbinom gowen vazda,
Dok sve misli koje sazda u jedan se pripev sli{e,
Tu`balicu mrtvih nada i dana {to sre}ni bi{e,
Tu`ni pripev: “Nikad vi{e”.

Ali Gavran, stvor stameni, tu`nu ma{tu bodri meni,

Naslowa~u ja pribli`ih vratima {to mogah bli`e,
I glave na pli{u sjajnom, mnih znamewe kakvo tajno
U govoru svom nehajno nosi tica ta {to sti`e,
[ta sablasna i odvratna, stara tica koja sti`e,
Misli grak}u}’: “Nikad vi{e”.

Sede}’, slutwom srce morih, i ni re~i ne prozborih

Tici ~ije plamne o~i do srca me prostreli{e;
I u misli zanesena, meni klonu glava snena
Sa uzglavqa tog svilena gde svetiqke odsjaj sli{e,
Ali ona na tu svilu gde svetiqke odsjaj sli{e,
Prile}’ ne}e – nikad vi{e!
 A vazduh sve gu{}i biva, kao miris da razliva
Kadionik kojim an|’o kadi sobu tiho, ti{e.
”Nesre}ni~e”, viknuh tada, “bo`ja milost to je rada
Da ti du{u spase jada, uspomenu da ti zbri{e;
Pij napitak sladak da se na Lenoru spomen zbri{e”.
Re~e Gavran: “Nikad vi{e”.

”Proro~e il’ stvore vra`ji, |avole il’ tico, ka`i,

Il’ te {aqe Ne~astivi il’ oluje ili ki{e,
Odva`noga, a turobna, u pustiwu mira grobna,
U dom ovaj straha kobna, ka`i {ta mi usud pi{e,
Da l’ na vrhu Gileada melem bolu mom se pi{e?”
Re~e Gavran: “Nikad vi{e”.

”Proro~e il’ stvore vra`ji, |avole il’ tico, ka`i,

Zakliwem te nebom sklonim i Gospodom ponajvi{e,
Da l’ }u du{u namu~enu priqubiti u Edenu
Uz devojku ozarenu koju svi mi snovi sni{e,
Uz Lenoru kojoj ime serafimi podari{e?”
Re~e Gavran: “Nikad vi{e”.

”Sad umukni, kleta tico”, sko~ih, viknuh, zloslutnico,

U paklenu no} se vrati, u oluj i nedra ki{e!
S tamom crno perje spoji, beleg la`i gnusnih tvojih,
Samo}om me udostoji, ne sedi vrh vrata vi{e;
Izgled i kqun tvoj ukloni {to mi srce ojadi{e”.
Re~e Gavran: ’’Nikad vi{e”.

Gavran, stvorewe `alno, sedi stalno, sedi stalno,

Krila mu se oko bledog Paladinog kipa svi{e,
O~i su mu zlokob prava, ko zloduha koji spava,
Svetiqka ga obasjava i sen mu po podu pi{e;
Du{a mi se od te senke {to se wi{u}’ podom pi{e
Spasti ne}e – nikad vi{e!