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El cuervo y otros poemas
Cuando el 29 de enero de 1845 el Evening Mirror de New York publicó "El Cuervo", la súbita fama cayó sobre Edgar Allan Poe, su autor. El extenso poema provocó un verdadero frenesí admirativo y se volvió un clásico desde el momento de su aparición. Tanto como Poe se aturdía con alcohol también se embriagaba de música verbal. Así, su genio se evidenció especialmente en las atormentadas y alucinantes visiones de su lírica; la lectura de esta selección de sus poemas es el medio más directo de señalarlo. Las dramáticas ilustraciones de Gustave Doré realzan el volumen.
168 pages, Paperback
First published January 29, 1845
About the author
Edgar Allan Poe
10.6k books29.5k followersThe name Poe brings to mind images of murderers and madmen, premature burials, and mysterious women who return from the dead. His works have been in print since 1827 and include such literary classics as The Tell-Tale Heart, The Raven, and The Fall of the House of Usher. This versatile writer’s oeuvre includes short stories, poetry, a novel, a textbook, a book of scientific theory, and hundreds of essays and book reviews. He is widely acknowledged as the inventor of the modern detective story and an innovator in the science fiction genre, but he made his living as America’s first great literary critic and theoretician. Poe’s reputation today rests primarily on his tales of terror as well as on his haunting lyric poetry.
Just as the bizarre characters in Poe’s stories have captured the public imagination so too has Poe himself. He is seen as a morbid, mysterious figure lurking in the shadows of moonlit cemeteries or crumbling castles. This is the Poe of legend. But much of what we know about Poe is wrong, the product of a biography written by one of his enemies in an attempt to defame the author’s name.
The real Poe was born to traveling actors in Boston on January 19, 1809. Edgar was the second of three children. His other brother William Henry Leonard Poe would also become a poet before his early death, and Poe’s sister Rosalie Poe would grow up to teach penmanship at a Richmond girls’ school. Within three years of Poe’s birth both of his parents had died, and he was taken in by the wealthy tobacco merchant John Allan and his wife Frances Valentine Allan in Richmond, Virginia while Poe’s siblings went to live with other families. Mr. Allan would rear Poe to be a businessman and a Virginia gentleman, but Poe had dreams of being a writer in emulation of his childhood hero the British poet Lord Byron. Early poetic verses found written in a young Poe’s handwriting on the backs of Allan’s ledger sheets reveal how little interest Poe had in the tobacco business.
For more information, please see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edgar_al...
Just as the bizarre characters in Poe’s stories have captured the public imagination so too has Poe himself. He is seen as a morbid, mysterious figure lurking in the shadows of moonlit cemeteries or crumbling castles. This is the Poe of legend. But much of what we know about Poe is wrong, the product of a biography written by one of his enemies in an attempt to defame the author’s name.
The real Poe was born to traveling actors in Boston on January 19, 1809. Edgar was the second of three children. His other brother William Henry Leonard Poe would also become a poet before his early death, and Poe’s sister Rosalie Poe would grow up to teach penmanship at a Richmond girls’ school. Within three years of Poe’s birth both of his parents had died, and he was taken in by the wealthy tobacco merchant John Allan and his wife Frances Valentine Allan in Richmond, Virginia while Poe’s siblings went to live with other families. Mr. Allan would rear Poe to be a businessman and a Virginia gentleman, but Poe had dreams of being a writer in emulation of his childhood hero the British poet Lord Byron. Early poetic verses found written in a young Poe’s handwriting on the backs of Allan’s ledger sheets reveal how little interest Poe had in the tobacco business.
For more information, please see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edgar_al...
Ratings & Reviews
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 911 reviews
October 13, 2015
A Edgar Allan Poe sólo le pagaron 10 dólares por publicar su poema en el Evening Mirror, pero de pronto se dio cuenta que había tocado el cielo con la manos. Lo invitaban a distintas reuniones de la alta sociedad a recitar de un tirón su famoso poema, lúgubre, melancólico y fatalista. Una obra de arte en la que la aliteración nos lleva, nos mece y nos hechiza.
Esta edición es interesante en dos aspectos: es bilingüe y El Cuervo está ilustrado por el más grande ilustrador del siglo XIX, que fue Gustave Doré, quien también hizo maravillosas ilustraciones de La Biblia, La Divina Comedia, El Paraíso Perdido, La Balada del Viejo Marinero y muchas obras más. Otros poemas incluidos en este libro son en también dignos de disfrutar, como Annabel Lee, Ulalume, Eldorado, Las Campanas, A mi Madre y Solo.
En tan solo 160 páginas, lo mejor del poemario de Poe, quien nos muestra unos de sus costados menos conocidos: el sensible, puesto que así era realmente en su vida real.
Esta edición es interesante en dos aspectos: es bilingüe y El Cuervo está ilustrado por el más grande ilustrador del siglo XIX, que fue Gustave Doré, quien también hizo maravillosas ilustraciones de La Biblia, La Divina Comedia, El Paraíso Perdido, La Balada del Viejo Marinero y muchas obras más. Otros poemas incluidos en este libro son en también dignos de disfrutar, como Annabel Lee, Ulalume, Eldorado, Las Campanas, A mi Madre y Solo.
En tan solo 160 páginas, lo mejor del poemario de Poe, quien nos muestra unos de sus costados menos conocidos: el sensible, puesto que así era realmente en su vida real.
October 31, 2017
Who doesn't love Poe? This one contains some of our favorite poems and I purchased it for my oldest daughter to read from our book club. It contains some of the spookiest poems by Poe including our favorite for this time of year, The Raven, as well as others like The Haunted Palace, Annabel Lee, The Bells, and A Dream Within a Dream. It's a small paperback with a nice collection of Poe's works.
October 5, 2017
The Raven, Annabel Lee; pure genius.
October 27, 2019
Il Poe poeta? Semplicemente sublime.
Una scrittura così delicata, densa di sfumature e rimandi, dove la Natura è parte di tutto e dove i pensieri dell'uomo, in quanto essere vivente che riflette su ciò che lo circonda, fanno da base a queste splendide poesie che hanno in sè solitudine, amore, dolore, morte, vita.
Non ho parole per raccontare cosa mi hanno instillato queste poesie, mi hanno lasciato ammutolito, estasiato da tanta capacità (di Poe) di mettere su carta ciò che lo turba, che lo ammalia, che lo emoziona, l'amore in primis, ma anche l'inquietudine dell'esistenza...
Insomma, bando alle ciance e cedo la parola a lui, Edgar Allan Poe!
La valle dell'inquietudine
Un tempo sorrideva silenziosa
una valle dove nessuno abitava:
la sua gente era partita per le guerre
lasciando al mite sguardo delle stelle,
nella notte, dalle alte torri azzurre,
di custodire la distesa dei fiori
dove per tutto il giorno pigramente
giaceva il rosso splendore del sole.
Adesso gli occhi del viandante vedono
che non c'è pace nella triste valle.
Più nullea laggiù resta immobile,
più nulla o forse l'aria soltanto
che sovrasta la solitudine magica.
Nessun vento sospinge le nuvole
che strisciano nel cielo inquiete
senza riposo, dal mattino alla sera,
sulle viole abbandonate che sembrano
miriadi di forme d'occhi umani
e sui gigli che ondeggiano e piangono
sopra una tomba che non ha nome!
Ondeggiano: dalle cime profumate
cadono gocce di rugiade immortali.
Piangono: dagli steli delicati
scendono come gemme eterne lacrime.
Annabel Lee
Molti e molti anni fa,
in un regno in riva al mare,
viveva una fanciulla che potete chiamare
con il nome di Annabel Lee;
e questa fanciulla non aveva altro pensiero
che d'amarmi ed essere amata da me.
Io ero un bimbo e lei una bimba
in quel regno in riva al mare:
ma ci amavamo d'un amore ch'era più che amore,
io e la mia bella Annabel Lee;
d'un amore che gli alati serafini del cielo
invidiavano a lei e a me.
Fu per questo che, molti e molti anni fa,
in quel regno in riva al mare,
un vento soffiò fuor d'una nube raggelando
la mia bella Annabel Lee.
Allora vennero i suoi nobili parenti
e lontano da me la vollero portare,
per chiuderla dentro un sepolcro
in quel regno in riva al mare.
Gli angeli, meno di noi felici in cielo,
invidiavano lei e me...
Sì! fu per questo (come tutti sanno
in quel regno in riva al mare)
che a notte un vento soffiò fuor d'una nube
raggelando e uccidendo la mia Annabel Lee.
Ma il nostro amore era ben più che l'amore
di tanti molto più vecchi di noi
di tanti molto più saggi di noi...
E nè gli angeli in cielo lassù,
nè i demoni giù nel fondo del mare,
la mia anima dall'anima sua
potranno mai separare.
Poi che mai splende la luna ch'io non sogni
la mia bella Annabel Lee,
nè mai si levano stelle ch'io non veda gli occhi lucenti
della mia bella Annabel Lee;
e così tutta la notte al fianco io giaccio
del mio amore, mio amore, mia vita e mia sposa,
nel suo sepolcro laggiù presso il mare,
nella sua tomba presso la riva del mare.
Una scrittura così delicata, densa di sfumature e rimandi, dove la Natura è parte di tutto e dove i pensieri dell'uomo, in quanto essere vivente che riflette su ciò che lo circonda, fanno da base a queste splendide poesie che hanno in sè solitudine, amore, dolore, morte, vita.
Non ho parole per raccontare cosa mi hanno instillato queste poesie, mi hanno lasciato ammutolito, estasiato da tanta capacità (di Poe) di mettere su carta ciò che lo turba, che lo ammalia, che lo emoziona, l'amore in primis, ma anche l'inquietudine dell'esistenza...
Insomma, bando alle ciance e cedo la parola a lui, Edgar Allan Poe!
La valle dell'inquietudine
Un tempo sorrideva silenziosa
una valle dove nessuno abitava:
la sua gente era partita per le guerre
lasciando al mite sguardo delle stelle,
nella notte, dalle alte torri azzurre,
di custodire la distesa dei fiori
dove per tutto il giorno pigramente
giaceva il rosso splendore del sole.
Adesso gli occhi del viandante vedono
che non c'è pace nella triste valle.
Più nullea laggiù resta immobile,
più nulla o forse l'aria soltanto
che sovrasta la solitudine magica.
Nessun vento sospinge le nuvole
che strisciano nel cielo inquiete
senza riposo, dal mattino alla sera,
sulle viole abbandonate che sembrano
miriadi di forme d'occhi umani
e sui gigli che ondeggiano e piangono
sopra una tomba che non ha nome!
Ondeggiano: dalle cime profumate
cadono gocce di rugiade immortali.
Piangono: dagli steli delicati
scendono come gemme eterne lacrime.
Annabel Lee
Molti e molti anni fa,
in un regno in riva al mare,
viveva una fanciulla che potete chiamare
con il nome di Annabel Lee;
e questa fanciulla non aveva altro pensiero
che d'amarmi ed essere amata da me.
Io ero un bimbo e lei una bimba
in quel regno in riva al mare:
ma ci amavamo d'un amore ch'era più che amore,
io e la mia bella Annabel Lee;
d'un amore che gli alati serafini del cielo
invidiavano a lei e a me.
Fu per questo che, molti e molti anni fa,
in quel regno in riva al mare,
un vento soffiò fuor d'una nube raggelando
la mia bella Annabel Lee.
Allora vennero i suoi nobili parenti
e lontano da me la vollero portare,
per chiuderla dentro un sepolcro
in quel regno in riva al mare.
Gli angeli, meno di noi felici in cielo,
invidiavano lei e me...
Sì! fu per questo (come tutti sanno
in quel regno in riva al mare)
che a notte un vento soffiò fuor d'una nube
raggelando e uccidendo la mia Annabel Lee.
Ma il nostro amore era ben più che l'amore
di tanti molto più vecchi di noi
di tanti molto più saggi di noi...
E nè gli angeli in cielo lassù,
nè i demoni giù nel fondo del mare,
la mia anima dall'anima sua
potranno mai separare.
Poi che mai splende la luna ch'io non sogni
la mia bella Annabel Lee,
nè mai si levano stelle ch'io non veda gli occhi lucenti
della mia bella Annabel Lee;
e così tutta la notte al fianco io giaccio
del mio amore, mio amore, mia vita e mia sposa,
nel suo sepolcro laggiù presso il mare,
nella sua tomba presso la riva del mare.
February 11, 2017
Be nothing which thou art not.
Overview 4/5 stars
I don't read much of any poetry. Apart from poems I've read for school (way back when), this is my first book of poetry I've ever read. I will be reading more poetry from now on as I thoroughly enjoyed this.
Poe is well known for the Raven, which everyone has heard at some point. Even the Simpsons recited it during a tree house of horror episode. His other works are also brilliant. There are, of course, a few misses but for the most part everything is great.
The raven
This is now my favourite poem ever. I'm currently looking on amazon to see if I can get the poem in a frame to put on a wall in my house, it's that good. If you don't check out any of the other poems, you must read the raven.
I’ve read this every night before bed since starting this collection. Very few writers can command language like Poe. Here are some of my favourite lines.
But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!
I could copy the whole thing as every word is placed brilliantly.
Other favourites
Amongst my favourites were Tamerlane, Alone, Elizabeth, Lenore, The City in the Sea, The Sleeper, The Valley of Unrest and Dreamland.
Most of the poems are gothic in nature and are rather haunting, though beautiful. Here are just some of my favourite bits. First up is a beaut from Dreamland:
By the lakes that thus outspread Their lone waters, lone and dead,—Their sad waters, sad and chilly With the snows of the lolling lily,—By the mountains—near the river Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever,—By the gray woods,—by the swamp Where the toad and the newt encamp,—By the dismal tarns and pools Where dwell the Ghouls,—By each spot the most unholy—In each nook most melancholy,—There the traveller meets aghast Sheeted Memories of the past—Shrouded forms that start and sigh As they pass the wanderer by—White-robed forms of friends long given, In agony, to the Earth—and Heaven.
Would to God I could awaken For I dream I know not how, And my soul is sorely shaken Lest an evil step be taken,—Lest the dead who is forsaken May not be happy now.
My love, she sleeps! Oh, may her sleep, As it is lasting, so be deep; Soft may the worms about her creep!
For no ripples curl, alas! Along that wilderness of glass—No swellings tell that winds may be Upon some far-off happier sea—No heavings hint that winds have been On seas less hideously serene.
“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?”
Read nothing, written less –in short’s a fool
And all I loved—I loved alone
And boyhood is a summer sun Whose waning is the dreariest one—For all we live to know is known, And all we seek to keep hath flown
Darkness there and nothing more…
Overview 4/5 stars
I don't read much of any poetry. Apart from poems I've read for school (way back when), this is my first book of poetry I've ever read. I will be reading more poetry from now on as I thoroughly enjoyed this.
Poe is well known for the Raven, which everyone has heard at some point. Even the Simpsons recited it during a tree house of horror episode. His other works are also brilliant. There are, of course, a few misses but for the most part everything is great.
The raven
This is now my favourite poem ever. I'm currently looking on amazon to see if I can get the poem in a frame to put on a wall in my house, it's that good. If you don't check out any of the other poems, you must read the raven.
I’ve read this every night before bed since starting this collection. Very few writers can command language like Poe. Here are some of my favourite lines.
But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!
I could copy the whole thing as every word is placed brilliantly.
Other favourites
Amongst my favourites were Tamerlane, Alone, Elizabeth, Lenore, The City in the Sea, The Sleeper, The Valley of Unrest and Dreamland.
Most of the poems are gothic in nature and are rather haunting, though beautiful. Here are just some of my favourite bits. First up is a beaut from Dreamland:
By the lakes that thus outspread Their lone waters, lone and dead,—Their sad waters, sad and chilly With the snows of the lolling lily,—By the mountains—near the river Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever,—By the gray woods,—by the swamp Where the toad and the newt encamp,—By the dismal tarns and pools Where dwell the Ghouls,—By each spot the most unholy—In each nook most melancholy,—There the traveller meets aghast Sheeted Memories of the past—Shrouded forms that start and sigh As they pass the wanderer by—White-robed forms of friends long given, In agony, to the Earth—and Heaven.
Would to God I could awaken For I dream I know not how, And my soul is sorely shaken Lest an evil step be taken,—Lest the dead who is forsaken May not be happy now.
My love, she sleeps! Oh, may her sleep, As it is lasting, so be deep; Soft may the worms about her creep!
For no ripples curl, alas! Along that wilderness of glass—No swellings tell that winds may be Upon some far-off happier sea—No heavings hint that winds have been On seas less hideously serene.
“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?”
Read nothing, written less –in short’s a fool
And all I loved—I loved alone
And boyhood is a summer sun Whose waning is the dreariest one—For all we live to know is known, And all we seek to keep hath flown
Darkness there and nothing more…
April 5, 2024
YUCK! POEMS!
The full poemography by Edgar Allan Poe, grand master of poetical horror, among other things.
Ugh! Disgusting! I hate poetry, so can’t say this is Poe’s fault here.
Ugh! I feel sick. I’m going to keep this short.
★★☆☆☆ "The Raven."
★★☆☆☆ “Annabel Lee.” [1.5]
★☆☆☆☆ “The Conqueror Worm, The Haunted Palace, Eulalie-A Song. Stanzas, Romance, To Helen, Dream-Land, The City in the Sea, The Lake-To, The Sleeper, Eldorado, The Valley of Unrest, Lenore, A Valentine, Ulalume-A Ballad, For Annie.”
☆☆☆☆☆ “Evening Star, To F-, Spirits of the Dead, Dreams, To One in Paradise, To My Mother, To M. L. S-, Israfel, To the River-, Sonnet-To Science, Sonnet-To Zante, The Bells, Fairy-Land, The Coliseum, A Dream within a Dream, Sonnet-Silence, A Dream, Alone, The Happiest Day.”
It’s public domain. You can find it HERE.
-----------------------------------------------
PERSONAL NOTE :
[1845] [73p] [Collection] [Poetry] [Not Recommendable]
-----------------------------------------------
★★★☆☆ The Essential Tales and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe
★★☆☆☆ The Complete Stories and Poems
★★★☆☆ The Tell-Tale Heart and Other Writings
★★★☆☆ The Fall of the House of Usher and Other Tales
★☆☆☆☆ The Raven and Other Poems
-----------------------------------------------
¡PUAJ! ¡POEMAS!
La completa poemografía por Edgar Allan Poe, gran maestro del horror poético, entre otras cosas.
¡Ugh! ¡Pero qué asco! Odio la poesía, así que no puedo decir que sea la culpa de Poe acá.
¡Ugh! Es enfermizo. Esto va a ser corto.
★★☆☆☆ "El Cuervo."
★★☆☆☆ “Annabel Lee.” [1.5]
★☆☆☆☆ “El Gusano Conquistador, El Palacio Embrujado, Eulalie-Canción, Stanzas, Romance, Para Helen, País de los Sueños, La Ciudad en el Mar, El Lago- Hasta, El Durmiente, Eldorado, El Valle del Malestar, Lenore, Valentine, Ulalume- Una Balada, Para Annie, El Día más Feliz.”
☆☆☆☆☆ “Estrella de la Tarde, Para F, Espíritus de los Muertos, Sueños, A Uno en el Paraíso, Para mi Madre, A M.L.S, Israfel, Al Rio, Soneto- A la Ciencia, Soneto-A Zante, Las Campanas, El País de las Hadas, El Coliseo, Un Sueño Dentro de un Sueño, Soneto- Silencio, Un Sueño, Solo.”
Es dominio público, lo pueden encontrar ACA.
-----------------------------------------------
NOTA PERSONAL :
[1845] [73p] [Colección] [Poesía] [No Recomendable]
-----------------------------------------------
The full poemography by Edgar Allan Poe, grand master of poetical horror, among other things.
Ugh! Disgusting! I hate poetry, so can’t say this is Poe’s fault here.
Ugh! I feel sick. I’m going to keep this short.
★★☆☆☆ "The Raven."
★★☆☆☆ “Annabel Lee.” [1.5]
★☆☆☆☆ “The Conqueror Worm, The Haunted Palace, Eulalie-A Song. Stanzas, Romance, To Helen, Dream-Land, The City in the Sea, The Lake-To, The Sleeper, Eldorado, The Valley of Unrest, Lenore, A Valentine, Ulalume-A Ballad, For Annie.”
☆☆☆☆☆ “Evening Star, To F-, Spirits of the Dead, Dreams, To One in Paradise, To My Mother, To M. L. S-, Israfel, To the River-, Sonnet-To Science, Sonnet-To Zante, The Bells, Fairy-Land, The Coliseum, A Dream within a Dream, Sonnet-Silence, A Dream, Alone, The Happiest Day.”
It’s public domain. You can find it HERE.
-----------------------------------------------
PERSONAL NOTE :
[1845] [73p] [Collection] [Poetry] [Not Recommendable]
-----------------------------------------------
★★★☆☆ The Essential Tales and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe
★★☆☆☆ The Complete Stories and Poems
★★★☆☆ The Tell-Tale Heart and Other Writings
★★★☆☆ The Fall of the House of Usher and Other Tales
★☆☆☆☆ The Raven and Other Poems
-----------------------------------------------
¡PUAJ! ¡POEMAS!
La completa poemografía por Edgar Allan Poe, gran maestro del horror poético, entre otras cosas.
¡Ugh! ¡Pero qué asco! Odio la poesía, así que no puedo decir que sea la culpa de Poe acá.
¡Ugh! Es enfermizo. Esto va a ser corto.
★★☆☆☆ "El Cuervo."
★★☆☆☆ “Annabel Lee.” [1.5]
★☆☆☆☆ “El Gusano Conquistador, El Palacio Embrujado, Eulalie-Canción, Stanzas, Romance, Para Helen, País de los Sueños, La Ciudad en el Mar, El Lago- Hasta, El Durmiente, Eldorado, El Valle del Malestar, Lenore, Valentine, Ulalume- Una Balada, Para Annie, El Día más Feliz.”
☆☆☆☆☆ “Estrella de la Tarde, Para F, Espíritus de los Muertos, Sueños, A Uno en el Paraíso, Para mi Madre, A M.L.S, Israfel, Al Rio, Soneto- A la Ciencia, Soneto-A Zante, Las Campanas, El País de las Hadas, El Coliseo, Un Sueño Dentro de un Sueño, Soneto- Silencio, Un Sueño, Solo.”
Es dominio público, lo pueden encontrar ACA.
-----------------------------------------------
NOTA PERSONAL :
[1845] [73p] [Colección] [Poesía] [No Recomendable]
-----------------------------------------------
March 26, 2021
"All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream."
Lush use of language and wonderful atmospheres! I really enjoyed reading this one.
Lush use of language and wonderful atmospheres! I really enjoyed reading this one.
March 13, 2025
leer a Poe se siente como caer en la más baja depravación como también ser una lectora pequeña para vez; leí unos cuantos de estos relatos por primera vez con 14 años y teniendo 21 definitivamente pegan mucho más fuerte y porqué no, también con mucho más miedo.
leer la degradación gradual del ser humano es un caldo que solo puede ser digerido lentamente; con una pluma prodigiosa y absolutamente aterradora, Poe lleva de la mano al lector por los caminos más sombríos y reales desde la perspectiva más confusa y sobre todo, inesperada.
me encantó; tomé este libro de relatos cortos por las risas gracias a que en la carrera esta semana hablamos sobre la obra de Poe desgranándola parte por parte y a través de su vida; leer estos relatos a la vez que los analizaba lo hizo sentir como una obra completa (a pesar de que, evidentemente, no lo es).
sencillamente lo fue todo y no podría recomendarlo más a los acérrimos fanáticos del terror si, por lo que se, todavía no se animan con Poe; esta es su señal para que lo hagan ahora mismo.
leer la degradación gradual del ser humano es un caldo que solo puede ser digerido lentamente; con una pluma prodigiosa y absolutamente aterradora, Poe lleva de la mano al lector por los caminos más sombríos y reales desde la perspectiva más confusa y sobre todo, inesperada.
me encantó; tomé este libro de relatos cortos por las risas gracias a que en la carrera esta semana hablamos sobre la obra de Poe desgranándola parte por parte y a través de su vida; leer estos relatos a la vez que los analizaba lo hizo sentir como una obra completa (a pesar de que, evidentemente, no lo es).
sencillamente lo fue todo y no podría recomendarlo más a los acérrimos fanáticos del terror si, por lo que se, todavía no se animan con Poe; esta es su señal para que lo hagan ahora mismo.
May 24, 2017
When I visited my son at the University of Virginia, he took me by Poe's room which is situated in the main center of the school. Poe was an inspiration for me who had already familiarized himself with some of his works. I liked the fact that he snubbed West Point upon leaving that venerable institution. He showed us what it was like to be a sassy nonconformist, which I have been myself at various stages in my life. I didn't like his poetry as much as his short stories, his being one of the first writers to perfect that form as well as contributing to the beginnings of the genres of horror, science fiction as well as improving literary criticism. I intend to read all of Poe.
May 13, 2023
I've just read this all at once and the hypnotic obscurity of Poe's writing took my breath away. I found myself highlighting, dog-earing and loudly reciting nearly every page of this awesome little book, and I hope I'll be able to concatenate my tangled thoughts into something that resembles an actual review sometime. Poe is the ultimate gothic demon and I couldn't be more enamored with his majestically dark poetry. I wish I could be the raven, someone to give him the comfort of a loyal company amidst the hollowness of his madness.
November 3, 2017
Not wild about poetry, not wild about horror but I love, love love these poems. I'm becoming a big Edgar Allan Poe fan completely by accident.
May 8, 2022
Nevermore...Nevermore...Nevermore
Selezione di 20 poesie che, per quanto ho potuto vedere, rappresentano il meglio della produzione di Poe. Fuori della raccolta ho letto Peana, Il castello incantato, Le campane, Fantasticheria, Terra di sogno, Un sogno dentro a un sogno, A mia madre.
Nei racconti Poe ha costruito i suoi mondi e le sue atmosfere gotiche, scavando nelle nostre paure e angosce. Nelle poesie li ritroviamo ma, complice il diverso mezzo, troviamo anche un Poe più intimo e delicato.
I componimenti sono di breve lunghezza, per creare quell'unità di effetto che si perderebbe su testi più lunghi, come ci spiega lo stesso EAP nella sua Filosofia della composizione, presente in appendice, dove assistiamo, spiegata passo a passo, alla costruzione della sua poesia più nota, ovvero Il Corvo.
In «Solo» c'è l'EAP geniale outsider, conscio di esserlo, che vivrà per questo una vità breve e grama
Fin da bambino, io non sono stato
uguale agli altri; non ho mai guardato
il mondo come gli altri; le passioni
da una fonte comune non ho tratto.
Dalla stessa sorgente non ho attinto
il mio dolore; né ho accordato il cuore
alla gioia di chi mi stava accanto.
Ciò che io ho amato, l’ho amato da solo.
Ne «La Città del mare» ritroviamo i mondi cupi di EAD
Guarda: la Morte si è innalzata un trono
in una città strana e solitaria
laggiù, nell’Occidente tenebroso,
dove buoni e cattivi, ottimi e pessimi
sono andati al loro eterno riposo.
I templi ed i palazzi, lì, e le torri
(corrose ormai dal tempo, ma non tremano!)
non somigliano a niente che sia nostro.
E tutt’intorno acque malinconiche
giacciono rassegnate sotto il cielo
dimenticate perfino dai venti.
Ne «Il verme conquistatore» si mette in scena lo spettacolo della vita, delle passioni e dei desideri, infine spazzati via dalla morte conquistatrice
Notte di gala, guarda!,
in questi solitari ultimi anni!
Una gran folla d’angeli, alati,
adorni di bei veli e sciolti in pianto,
siede in teatro e assiste
a un dramma di speranze e di paure,
mentre l’orchestra a intervalli sussurra
musica delle sfere.
E poi ci si strugge per le morte donne di EAP, morte come le sue due madri (naturale e adottiva) e la sua amata sposa bambina Virginia,
come «Ulalume»
I cieli erano cenere e tristezza;
le foglie erano tutte crespe e secche –
le foglie erano tutte vizze e secche;
ed era notte nel deserto ottobre
di un anno che vorrei dimenticare;
e fu vicino al nero lago di Auber
in mezzo alle foschie del medio Weir,
e fu laggiù, presso lo stagno di Auber,
nei boschi del Weir, dimora di mostri.
e chiaramente come la Lenore de «Il Corvo», con il suo ipnotico "mai più"
“Tu, profeta dell’inferno!” dissi. “Tu, demonio o uccello!
Per il cielo su di noi – per il Dio a cui ci inchiniamo –
di’ a quest’anima infelice se qui o nel lontano Eden
stringerà la donna sacra che per gli angeli è Lenore –
sì, quell’unica, radiosa, che per gli angeli è Lenore.”
Disse il Corvo: “Mai più”.
Edouart Manet, Il corvo, illustrazione per una traduzione francese della piú conosciuta poesia di Poe
Selezione di 20 poesie che, per quanto ho potuto vedere, rappresentano il meglio della produzione di Poe. Fuori della raccolta ho letto Peana, Il castello incantato, Le campane, Fantasticheria, Terra di sogno, Un sogno dentro a un sogno, A mia madre.
Nei racconti Poe ha costruito i suoi mondi e le sue atmosfere gotiche, scavando nelle nostre paure e angosce. Nelle poesie li ritroviamo ma, complice il diverso mezzo, troviamo anche un Poe più intimo e delicato.
I componimenti sono di breve lunghezza, per creare quell'unità di effetto che si perderebbe su testi più lunghi, come ci spiega lo stesso EAP nella sua Filosofia della composizione, presente in appendice, dove assistiamo, spiegata passo a passo, alla costruzione della sua poesia più nota, ovvero Il Corvo.
***
In «Solo» c'è l'EAP geniale outsider, conscio di esserlo, che vivrà per questo una vità breve e grama
Fin da bambino, io non sono stato
uguale agli altri; non ho mai guardato
il mondo come gli altri; le passioni
da una fonte comune non ho tratto.
Dalla stessa sorgente non ho attinto
il mio dolore; né ho accordato il cuore
alla gioia di chi mi stava accanto.
Ciò che io ho amato, l’ho amato da solo.
Ne «La Città del mare» ritroviamo i mondi cupi di EAD
Guarda: la Morte si è innalzata un trono
in una città strana e solitaria
laggiù, nell’Occidente tenebroso,
dove buoni e cattivi, ottimi e pessimi
sono andati al loro eterno riposo.
I templi ed i palazzi, lì, e le torri
(corrose ormai dal tempo, ma non tremano!)
non somigliano a niente che sia nostro.
E tutt’intorno acque malinconiche
giacciono rassegnate sotto il cielo
dimenticate perfino dai venti.
Ne «Il verme conquistatore» si mette in scena lo spettacolo della vita, delle passioni e dei desideri, infine spazzati via dalla morte conquistatrice
Notte di gala, guarda!,
in questi solitari ultimi anni!
Una gran folla d’angeli, alati,
adorni di bei veli e sciolti in pianto,
siede in teatro e assiste
a un dramma di speranze e di paure,
mentre l’orchestra a intervalli sussurra
musica delle sfere.
E poi ci si strugge per le morte donne di EAP, morte come le sue due madri (naturale e adottiva) e la sua amata sposa bambina Virginia,
come «Ulalume»
I cieli erano cenere e tristezza;
le foglie erano tutte crespe e secche –
le foglie erano tutte vizze e secche;
ed era notte nel deserto ottobre
di un anno che vorrei dimenticare;
e fu vicino al nero lago di Auber
in mezzo alle foschie del medio Weir,
e fu laggiù, presso lo stagno di Auber,
nei boschi del Weir, dimora di mostri.
e chiaramente come la Lenore de «Il Corvo», con il suo ipnotico "mai più"
“Tu, profeta dell’inferno!” dissi. “Tu, demonio o uccello!
Per il cielo su di noi – per il Dio a cui ci inchiniamo –
di’ a quest’anima infelice se qui o nel lontano Eden
stringerà la donna sacra che per gli angeli è Lenore –
sì, quell’unica, radiosa, che per gli angeli è Lenore.”
Disse il Corvo: “Mai più”.
February 28, 2023
And boyhood is a summer sun
Whose waning is the dreariest one—
For all we live to know is known,
And all we seek to keep hath flown—
Let life, then, as the day-flower, fall
With the noon-day beauty— which is all.
Whose waning is the dreariest one—
For all we live to know is known,
And all we seek to keep hath flown—
Let life, then, as the day-flower, fall
With the noon-day beauty— which is all.
October 11, 2018
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
I don’t normally read books of poetry, but I needed to read one with at least 24 poems for a book challenge. So, inspired by the Halloween season, I read this book of poems, which very fortunately has 26 poems. 😄
Much of Poe’s poetry is about the loss of a beloved woman, or death, or the loss of a beloved woman to death. His poems have a strong focus on sound, rhyme, and rhythm. There are several here that I don’t remember ever reading that I quite enjoyed: “Alone,” “The Conqueror Worm,” “The Bells,” “A Dream Within a Dream,” and “For Annie.” And perhaps no poem sums up Poe more simply than his couplet “Deep in Earth,” which reads in its entirety:
Deep in earth my love is lying
And I must weep alone.
But it turns out the two poems you remember from grade school—“Annabel Lee” and “The Raven”—are Poe’s best poems, and pretty fully sum up the themes of his poetry. Recommended, especially “The Raven,” which is still one of the greatest poems ever written.
September 13, 2026
The Raven and Other Poems showcases Poe's wonderfully gothic writing, conjuring lush, atmospheric imagery that reminded me strongly of Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Both have that distinctly Romantic ability to create vivid, dreamlike worlds while wandering into some wonderfully dark territory.
Not all the Romantics were content with beauty and nature. Some also wanted things to be spectacularly macabre. 🖤📜
Not all the Romantics were content with beauty and nature. Some also wanted things to be spectacularly macabre. 🖤📜
Read
December 28, 2021[ISBN:978-989-8382-07-8
FolioExemplar editora]
"O Belo é o único domínio legítimo da poesia"
Edgar Allan Poe
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 throws his shadow
[on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the
[floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!
E o corvo, na noite infinda, está ainda, está ainda No alvo busto de Atena que há por sobre os meus umbrais.
Seu olhar tem a medonha cor de um demónio que sonha,
E a luz lança-lhe a tristonha sombra no chão há mais e
[mais,
E a minh'alma d'essa sombra, que no chão há mais e
[mais
Libertar-se-á... nunca mais!
(F. Pessoa)
E o corvo aí fica; ei-lo trepado
No branco mármore lavrado
Da antiga Palas; ei-lo imutável, ferrenho.
Parece, ao ver-lhe o duro cenho,
Um demônio sonhando. A luz caída
Do lampião sobre a ave aborrecida
No chão espraia a triste sombra; e, fora
Daquelas linhas funerais
Que flutuam no chão, a minha alma que chora
Não sai mais, nunca, nunca mais!
(M. Assis)
O interesse do presente livro reside todo ele numa comparação estética das traduções elaboradas por Fernando Pessoa e Machado de Assis.
E se do primeiro podemos dizer que prima pela exatidão e rigor do trabalho, do segundo podemos dizer que bate o anterior aos pontos pela força emotiva e o encanto da linguagem adotada.
No entanto, a elaboração do volume peca pela adição de um outro escrito pela mão do autor, intitulado A Filosofia da Composição que, procurando explicar os processos criativos de Poe na elaboração do poema O Corvo no-lo apresenta (fragmentado como o autor escolheu) em ainda outra tradução, desta vez por João da Costa. O documento não perde o seu valor claro, mas por esta altura já contamos com três traduções dispares de um mesmo poema e esta análise crítica de autor ao seu próprio trabalho fica assim algo solta no meio de tudo isto.
Veja-se a estância anterior como apresentada neste ensaio:
E o corbeau, não se mexendo, continua empoleirado,
[continua empoleirado
Sobre o busto pálido de Palas, mesmo por cima
[da porta do meu quarto,
E os seus olhos assemelham-se aos dum demónio
[pensativo,
E a luz frouxa do candeeiro, que flui, projecta a sua
[sombra no chão
E a minha alma, para longe desta sombra flutuante
[que jaz por terra
Não se evadirá nunca mais!
(João da Costa)
Ainda assim, as reflexões de Poe são extraordinárias:
"Aquilo a que chamamos um poema comprido não passa, na realidade duma sucessão de poemas curtos, isto é, de efeitos poéticos breves. Inútil se torna dizer que um poema só é um poema enquanto eleva a alma e lhe proporciona uma excitação intensa; e, por uma necessidade psíquica, todas as excitações intensas são de curta duração."
29
"O prazer apenas é extraído da sensação de identidade, de repetição."
32
Os pontos altos do livro, contudo, são certamente os dois poemas escolhidos para o encerrar, Annabel Lee e Ulalume, em versões assinadas por Fernando Pessoa e já tão nossos conhecidos - pelas imensas alusões e declamações que sofrem na cultura televisiva/cinematográfica - como se fizessem parte de um guião de leitura obrigatório.
Annabel Lee
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling - my darling - my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
Porque os luares tristonhos só me trazem sonhos
Da linda que eu soube amar;
E as estrelas nos ares só me lembram olhares
Da linda que eu soube amar;
E assim 'stou deitado toda a noite ao lado
Do meu anjo, meu anjo, meu sonho e meu fado,
No sepulcro ao pé do mar,
Ao pé do murmúrio do mar.
FolioExemplar editora]
"O Belo é o único domínio legítimo da poesia"
Edgar Allan Poe
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 throws his shadow
[on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the
[floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!
E o corvo, na noite infinda, está ainda, está ainda No alvo busto de Atena que há por sobre os meus umbrais.
Seu olhar tem a medonha cor de um demónio que sonha,
E a luz lança-lhe a tristonha sombra no chão há mais e
[mais,
E a minh'alma d'essa sombra, que no chão há mais e
[mais
Libertar-se-á... nunca mais!
(F. Pessoa)
E o corvo aí fica; ei-lo trepado
No branco mármore lavrado
Da antiga Palas; ei-lo imutável, ferrenho.
Parece, ao ver-lhe o duro cenho,
Um demônio sonhando. A luz caída
Do lampião sobre a ave aborrecida
No chão espraia a triste sombra; e, fora
Daquelas linhas funerais
Que flutuam no chão, a minha alma que chora
Não sai mais, nunca, nunca mais!
(M. Assis)
O interesse do presente livro reside todo ele numa comparação estética das traduções elaboradas por Fernando Pessoa e Machado de Assis.
E se do primeiro podemos dizer que prima pela exatidão e rigor do trabalho, do segundo podemos dizer que bate o anterior aos pontos pela força emotiva e o encanto da linguagem adotada.
No entanto, a elaboração do volume peca pela adição de um outro escrito pela mão do autor, intitulado A Filosofia da Composição que, procurando explicar os processos criativos de Poe na elaboração do poema O Corvo no-lo apresenta (fragmentado como o autor escolheu) em ainda outra tradução, desta vez por João da Costa. O documento não perde o seu valor claro, mas por esta altura já contamos com três traduções dispares de um mesmo poema e esta análise crítica de autor ao seu próprio trabalho fica assim algo solta no meio de tudo isto.
Veja-se a estância anterior como apresentada neste ensaio:
E o corbeau, não se mexendo, continua empoleirado,
[continua empoleirado
Sobre o busto pálido de Palas, mesmo por cima
[da porta do meu quarto,
E os seus olhos assemelham-se aos dum demónio
[pensativo,
E a luz frouxa do candeeiro, que flui, projecta a sua
[sombra no chão
E a minha alma, para longe desta sombra flutuante
[que jaz por terra
Não se evadirá nunca mais!
(João da Costa)
Ainda assim, as reflexões de Poe são extraordinárias:
"Aquilo a que chamamos um poema comprido não passa, na realidade duma sucessão de poemas curtos, isto é, de efeitos poéticos breves. Inútil se torna dizer que um poema só é um poema enquanto eleva a alma e lhe proporciona uma excitação intensa; e, por uma necessidade psíquica, todas as excitações intensas são de curta duração."
29
"O prazer apenas é extraído da sensação de identidade, de repetição."
32
Os pontos altos do livro, contudo, são certamente os dois poemas escolhidos para o encerrar, Annabel Lee e Ulalume, em versões assinadas por Fernando Pessoa e já tão nossos conhecidos - pelas imensas alusões e declamações que sofrem na cultura televisiva/cinematográfica - como se fizessem parte de um guião de leitura obrigatório.
Annabel Lee
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling - my darling - my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
Porque os luares tristonhos só me trazem sonhos
Da linda que eu soube amar;
E as estrelas nos ares só me lembram olhares
Da linda que eu soube amar;
E assim 'stou deitado toda a noite ao lado
Do meu anjo, meu anjo, meu sonho e meu fado,
No sepulcro ao pé do mar,
Ao pé do murmúrio do mar.
February 1, 2019
I'm not a fan of poetry but since I'm to exhausted to read fantasy now a days I tried to read this one. In this book it's too hard to read unless otherwise you sit and reread the phrases in order to understand what you are reading.
Anyway, life is too hard to contemplate. There will always be sorrow and lost. Things will always mystify us in the future. Poems are mysteries of life that sometimes are hard to phantom.
Anyway, life is too hard to contemplate. There will always be sorrow and lost. Things will always mystify us in the future. Poems are mysteries of life that sometimes are hard to phantom.
Read
May 12, 2020it is my first but not my last
complete read of this dramatic bulbous compilation.
Please, there is a dreamland, some godly empowered water and a wickedly sarcastic raven
complete read of this dramatic bulbous compilation.
Please, there is a dreamland, some godly empowered water and a wickedly sarcastic raven
May 30, 2021
Esto fue una experiencia maravillosa. El leer los poemas en inglés y luego releerlos en español fue una experiencia única, además que cuando los leía en inglés los iba escuchando en youtube (se encuentran desde varios videos fanmade muy lindos hasta audiolibros narrados por Basil Rathbone y Vincent Price). La traducción de esta edición es buenísima, highly recommend esta edición de Losada *chef's kiss*.
Mis poemas favoritos fueron: (algunos ya lo eran pero no los tenía en físico así que aproveché para rAYARLOS TODOOS)
- The Raven
- Bridal Ballad
- The Sleeper
- The Conqueror Worm
- Alone
- A Dream Within a Dream
- The Bells
- Annabel Lee
- Spirits of the Dead
Mis poemas favoritos fueron: (algunos ya lo eran pero no los tenía en físico así que aproveché para rAYARLOS TODOOS)
- The Raven
- Bridal Ballad
- The Sleeper
- The Conqueror Worm
- Alone
- A Dream Within a Dream
- The Bells
- Annabel Lee
- Spirits of the Dead
May 22, 2015
Some poems are really hard for me to understand unless I sit down, reread the lines twice and think hard. Though there are some that are beautifully haunting and sad. My favourite poems by him are the ones about his lost loves, those are the ones I delved into and got lost in. For one thing, Poe sure had an uncanny ability to depict pain and suffering. Hell, it seem to seep through the pages. It's obvious this man wrote with passion and feeling.
March 22, 2020
Solo
Fin da bambino, io non sono stato
uguale agli altri; non ho mai guardato
il mondo come gli altri; le passioni
da una fonte comune non ho tratto.
Dalla stessa sorgente non ho attinto
il mio dolore; né ho accordato il cuore
alla gioia di chi mi stava accanto.
Ciò che io ho amato, l'ho amato da solo.
Allora - nei miei primi anni, nell'alba
delle burrasche di una vita - è sorto
dai grandi abissi del bene e del male
questo mistero che ancora mi avvince:
sempre, dalla fontana o dal torrente,
da quella rossa rupe in cima a un monte,
dal sole che girava intorno a me
nel suo bagliore dorato d'autunno,
dal lampo che scoccava in mezzo al cielo
sfiorandomi nel suo rapido volo,
dalla tempesta e dal rombo del tuono,
e dalla nube che prendeva forma
(mentre il resto del Cielo era sereno):
la sagoma di un demone al mio sguardo.
Nelle poesie di Poe si riflettono i pensieri di un uomo eternamente malinconico. Leggendo i suoi versi affiorano immagini ricche di inquietudine, dove i temi dominanti sono la morte, la solitudine, la caducità delle cose. Sono dunque componimenti tristi e a volte anche angoscianti, che regalano visioni potenti e indimenticabili.
Fin da bambino, io non sono stato
uguale agli altri; non ho mai guardato
il mondo come gli altri; le passioni
da una fonte comune non ho tratto.
Dalla stessa sorgente non ho attinto
il mio dolore; né ho accordato il cuore
alla gioia di chi mi stava accanto.
Ciò che io ho amato, l'ho amato da solo.
Allora - nei miei primi anni, nell'alba
delle burrasche di una vita - è sorto
dai grandi abissi del bene e del male
questo mistero che ancora mi avvince:
sempre, dalla fontana o dal torrente,
da quella rossa rupe in cima a un monte,
dal sole che girava intorno a me
nel suo bagliore dorato d'autunno,
dal lampo che scoccava in mezzo al cielo
sfiorandomi nel suo rapido volo,
dalla tempesta e dal rombo del tuono,
e dalla nube che prendeva forma
(mentre il resto del Cielo era sereno):
la sagoma di un demone al mio sguardo.
Nelle poesie di Poe si riflettono i pensieri di un uomo eternamente malinconico. Leggendo i suoi versi affiorano immagini ricche di inquietudine, dove i temi dominanti sono la morte, la solitudine, la caducità delle cose. Sono dunque componimenti tristi e a volte anche angoscianti, che regalano visioni potenti e indimenticabili.
May 1, 2018
"Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!
Quoth the raven, 'Nevermore.' "
These poems...where something else.
I really really loved 'The Raven', which is the first poem in this collection. It was incredibly weird and abstract and I really enjoyed making notes on it and studying the writing of it.
One other poem I found really creative and interesting was 'Epigram For Wall Street. Something about it just spoke to me and made me laugh, so loved that one also.
But unfortunately the others fell a little flat for me. I am, without a doubt, certain that they are great poems and I am sure if I really sit down and focus and study them, I will be able to appreciate them alot more.
I found myself just skipping some of the poems and kind of drifting away while reading them. So maybe I'll re-vist this collection at some point, but not any time soon.
Quoth the raven, 'Nevermore.' "
These poems...where something else.
I really really loved 'The Raven', which is the first poem in this collection. It was incredibly weird and abstract and I really enjoyed making notes on it and studying the writing of it.
One other poem I found really creative and interesting was 'Epigram For Wall Street. Something about it just spoke to me and made me laugh, so loved that one also.
But unfortunately the others fell a little flat for me. I am, without a doubt, certain that they are great poems and I am sure if I really sit down and focus and study them, I will be able to appreciate them alot more.
I found myself just skipping some of the poems and kind of drifting away while reading them. So maybe I'll re-vist this collection at some point, but not any time soon.
September 15, 2012
Edgar Allan Poe je moje srdcovka v každé podobě. tyhle básničky jsem četla asi už po desáté a ještě mě neomrzely.
January 31, 2019
یکی از دلایلی که آثار ادگار آلنپو (چه شعر و چه داستان کوتاه) رو برام جذاب میکنه فضاسازی خاص و بکرشه. فضاسازی هوشنمندانهای که به خوبی میتونه مخاطب رو همراه کنه و همذاتپنداری ایجاد کنه. سایهی مرگ، ترس، احساس گناه، پوچی و ملال تقریباً تو تمام شعرها دیده میشه. چیزی که برای من خیلی جذاب بود آشنایی ادگار آلنپو با ادیان شرقی بود که بعضاً نمود بارزی داشتن تو شعرهاش. بسیاری از شعرها مثل کلاغ سیر روایی داشتند که برام خیلی جذابیت ایجاد میکرد. اما جا داره بگم که ترجمهی مترجم و پیشگفتاری که نوشت واقعاً تعریفی نبود. ترجمه واقعاً نیاز به ویرایش داره و یهجاهایی احساس میکنی خود مترجم هم ممکنه متوجهی مفهوم چیزی که ترجمه کرده، نشه. در پیشگفتاری هم که نوشت خیلی سعی داشت که تکتک شعرهای ادگار آلنپو رو به یه قضیه در زندگی واقعیش مربوط کنه که بعضی اوقات ربط خاصی وجود نداشته انصافاً. نمیدونم چه اصراریه. :))
March 27, 2020
"And neither the angels in Heaven above
Nor the demons down under the sea
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee."
When it comes to poetry, I haven't read anything so profound, filled with raw emotions and macabre, bizarre imagery in a long time. At his peak creative genius, Edgar Allan Poe, using poetry, managed to convey a vast array of human emotions, starting with love, despair, depression, etc. marked with a deep sense of beauty. Probably his most famous pieces of poetry, "Annabel Lee" and "The Raven" are prime examples of aforementioned feelings. His love poems are always about lost love, that died, passed away, and by Fate wasn't meant to be. Anyone who knows what he had went through in his personal life would understand where all those feelings came from. All in all, Poe's poetry will always stand as a monument to his genius.
Nor the demons down under the sea
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee."
When it comes to poetry, I haven't read anything so profound, filled with raw emotions and macabre, bizarre imagery in a long time. At his peak creative genius, Edgar Allan Poe, using poetry, managed to convey a vast array of human emotions, starting with love, despair, depression, etc. marked with a deep sense of beauty. Probably his most famous pieces of poetry, "Annabel Lee" and "The Raven" are prime examples of aforementioned feelings. His love poems are always about lost love, that died, passed away, and by Fate wasn't meant to be. Anyone who knows what he had went through in his personal life would understand where all those feelings came from. All in all, Poe's poetry will always stand as a monument to his genius.
October 6, 2017
I haven’t read many collections of poetry, or single poems for that matter. It is not something I gravitate to in my normal course of reading. I just don’t know how to embrace poetry. Maybe it was a poor high school education that contributed to my utter lack of understanding things like meter, rhythm, iambic pentameter, and all that goes into creating a poem. For me enjoying a poem has always been an impulse or gut reaction, either the poem is instantly OK or it’s not. The memorability of a poem is even more difficult for me. Granted I have read very little poetry and a lot of it has been enjoyable, but until this books “Annabel Lee” I can only call up two poems that are locked in my memory. While the poem was memorable, I had to look up the titles for this post. Both were written by Robert Frost, one called “Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening.” The other is called “The Road not Taken.” I won’t pretend that I remember these poems word for word but parts of them have and will stick with me forever.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me--
Yes!--that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
I have read all the poems of "The Raven and Other Poems" at least once, and a few poems I have read several times. I have also looked up and listened to audio versions of all the poems. I read this book because it is a group read and discussion next month, at that time I plan to read them all again.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me--
Yes!--that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
I have read all the poems of "The Raven and Other Poems" at least once, and a few poems I have read several times. I have also looked up and listened to audio versions of all the poems. I read this book because it is a group read and discussion next month, at that time I plan to read them all again.
May 6, 2024
poe's writing is so incredible, both his poems and his short stories. i loved so many poems in this collection, but i'll always have a special place in my heart for "the raven" ♡
December 30, 2024
I hope everyone is proud!! Only liked 3 of these poems but it’s getting 4 stars anyway. Goal is to read an actual book in 2025
December 28, 2013
There are many sides of Poe
...and The Raven is probably Poe at his best! I find this poem one of my favorites of all his works, though besides The Raven, I'm not as fond of his poetry as I am his Science Fiction short stories.
This hardback picture book edition is filled with colorful and penciled drawings done by Gustav Doré in all his finest, as illustrated in my snapshot above. But, only The Raven is illustrated, as the other poems are included in set at the end of the more picturesque Raven poem. I've read this copy countless times, and will probably read it countless times more. It is a hauntingly lovely and symbolic work.And, I do enjoy all of Gustav Doré's art!
...and The Raven is probably Poe at his best! I find this poem one of my favorites of all his works, though besides The Raven, I'm not as fond of his poetry as I am his Science Fiction short stories.
This hardback picture book edition is filled with colorful and penciled drawings done by Gustav Doré in all his finest, as illustrated in my snapshot above. But, only The Raven is illustrated, as the other poems are included in set at the end of the more picturesque Raven poem. I've read this copy countless times, and will probably read it countless times more. It is a hauntingly lovely and symbolic work.And, I do enjoy all of Gustav Doré's art!
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