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Edgar Allan Poe

Annabel Lee
De demult s-a-ntmplat, de demult
Era lng-o mare cu ape-argintii,
O fecioar tria, i poate c-o tii,
O fecioar, Annabel Lee ;
i tria doar c-un gnd s-o iubesc mereu,
i tria s m poat iubi.
Eu un copil i ea un copil,
Lng-o mare cu ape-argintii,
Ne iubeam ca un cntec mai presus de iubire
Ca un cntec Annabel Lee ;
i priveau, pizmuind preacurata iubire,
Chiar serafii de sus, din trii.
i aa s-a-ntmplat c-ntr-o zi, demult,
Lng marea cu ape-argintii
Un vnt de pustiu s-a iscat dintr-un nor,
nghend-o pe Annabel Lee ;
Mritele-i neamuri au dus-o departe.
Departe de mine, spre miazzi,
i-au nchis-o n mormntul de piatr,
Lng-o mare cu ape-argintii.
Chiar serafii, nicicnd fericii ca noi,
Pizmuindu-ne priveau din trii
Da, aa s-a-ntmplat (i cu toii o tiu
Lng marea cu ape-argintii)
C-ntr-o noapte un vnt se-abtu, geros,
inghetnd, ucignd pe Annabel Lee.
Dar iubirea ne-a fost mai presus de iubirea
Celor mai btrni dect noi, doi copii
Celor mai nelepi dect noi, doi copii
i nici ngerii de sus, din trii,
Nici demonii din funduri de-ocean
N-au s poat vreodat visul meu despri
De-al frumoasei Annabel Lee.
i, prin noapte, urcnd, luna-mi pare un gnd
Al fecioarei Annabel Lee;
i din ochii stelari eu vd ochii ei mari,
Ai frumoasei Annabel Lee;
i n fluxu-nnoptat lng ea stau culcat,
Lng draga, iubita, logodnica mea,
n mormntul din rmuri pustii,
Lng rmuri cu valuri pustii.
(trad. Mihu Dragomir)

Edgar Allan Poe


Lenore
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 no tear?- weep now or nevermore!
See! on yon drear and rigid bier low lies thy love, Lenore!
Come! let the burial rite be read- the funeral song be sung!An anthem for the queenliest dead that ever died so youngA dirge for her the doubly dead in that she died so young.
"Wretches! ye loved her for her wealth and hated her for her pride,
And when she fell in feeble health, ye blessed her- that she died!
How shall the ritual, then, be read?- the requiem how be sung
By you- by yours, the evil eye,- by yours, the slanderous tongue
That did to death the innocence that died, and died so young?"
Peccavimus; but rave not thus! and let a Sabbath song
Go up to God so solemnly the dead may feel no wrong.
The sweet Lenore hath "gone before," with Hope, that flew beside,
Leaving thee wild for the dear child that should have been thy
bride.
For her, the fair and debonair, that now so lowly lies,
The life upon her yellow hair but not within her eyes
The life still there, upon her hair- the death upon her eyes.
"Avaunt! avaunt! from fiends below, the indignant ghost is rivenFrom Hell unto a high estate far up within the HeavenFrom grief and groan, to a golden throne, beside the King of
Heaven!
Let no bell toll, then,- lest her soul, amid its hallowed mirth,
Should catch the note as it doth float up from the damned Earth!
And I!- to-night my heart is light!- no dirge will I upraise,
But waft the angel on her flight with a Paean of old days!"