Эдгар Аллан По - Ворон (в различных переводах)

Эдгар Аллан По Ворон(в различных переводах)

The Raven (1844-1849)

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

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