The Raven

Once one terrible night, I imagined in solitude,

I read black, dusty books, which old knowledge hides;

As I nearly fell asleep, someone knocked on me,

He knocked on my door – knocked quietly – quieter –

"This is a traveler," I murmured, "fleeing from the rain,"

Just that and nothing more.

Ah, yes, I still remember clearly, in December it was late

Every tingling fog, spirits rip on the floor.

I'm waiting for the dawn, I'm pulling in vain from books

Salvation from the pain that torments me, because they separated me from her.

From the virgin of angels, from Lenore they separated,

Ah, she's gone now.

From the silk, sad noise from the velvet curtain

Never before felt horrors engulfed me;

As my heart beats hard, I reconcile it more and more courageously:

"The traveler begs to hide from that night, the bora, the rain.

A passenger knocks on that door to hide in front of the rain.

That's all, nothing more."

I was encouraged suddenly, no longer hesitating then:

"Mr. Or ma'am, my apologies are coming!

I have a lot of dreams, and you know how to do it.

So quietly and without strength, your fingers of the door were,

That I could barely hear the dreamy" – That's where the door opened –

It's dark there, nothing more.

The look of darkness was penetrating, strangely intimidated I was,

Doubting, dreaming, dreaming of me in hell;

There was silence untouched, no sign given by darkness,

It's the only word whispered by the sound of rain:

"Lenora" I whispered softly, the echo gave it back to me more quietly,

Just that and nothing more.

When I returned to the room, I burned with all my soul:

Slightly stronger than before the blows were repeated.

"Certainly," I said, "it's in the window of my room;

I'll take a moment to see what it is, what secrets are hidden here.

Steady, sweetheart. Yes, we see, what secrets are hidden here –

The wind is, nothing more.

I opened the window hook, when with the glut and with the noise,

Through him entered the proud Raven, on the holy days that were already there,

Not a moment's worth of bowing his head, not a moment to stop.

With the image of a lord or a lady through my room rises

And on the statue of Palada lands, which rises above the door,

Land, sit, nothing more.

This thing in a black cloak, it makes my sad imagination laugh

The heavy, grim dignity with which his whole character breathes.

"Let your crest hang miserably," I said, "you're not a coward,

You are the terrible, dark Raven, coming from the shores of the Night,

What do they call you on the beach on the night of Hades where it comes from?"

The raven said, "Never again."

I was amazed at the fact that I could clearly say,

Though vague words have made it clear to me a little.

But admitted must everyone, does not happen to be easy,

If a living man looks at him like that, a bird that sways over him,

An animal or a bird, swinging above the door

With that name "Never Again.".

But the Raven sitting there, saying a word only,

His heart and soul are heard in that word.

That's all he told me – he doesn't move his wings further,

As my whispers peace cuts through: "All my companions have forsaken me,

He also will go away as hopes have forsaken me."

Then the Raven will "Never Again".

While I was still taken aback— the answer was readily said.

"There's no doubt," I said, "that word is just a trifle, nothing more

From the unfortunate master of the hear, whose fate is rigid,

She followed along his path, until all