find the following contains possible spoilers, if you do not know the poem, get up before reading. Thanks.
Some say that he was under the influence of opium when he wrote, and others who simply drunk. Some say that he did in a day, others who took ten years. The truth is that the raven was inspired by Charles Dickens speaker in the novel Barnaby Rudge , based his structure of rhyme and rhythm in the poem Lady Geraldine's Courtship of Elizabeth Barrett and any aspect of the poem came by accident.
narrates - in first person - as a young student is visited by a strange and peculiar being, as he struggles internally by the loss of his love, Lenore. The fact that a student's question is something that the poem does not mention but which is as evident as the logic that is based Poe (the narrator is reading a book, it suggests, is also present the bust of Pallas Athena - Goddess of wisdom), he talks about this in Philosophy of Composition, a controversial essay he wrote in 1846, also known as composition method, whose subject is the method of writing and explaining the process by which he wrote this poem. Poe said that no aspect of the poem was an accident and that everything is based on logic, The Crow enters the room to escape the storm, "the edge of a midnight dreary" in the bleak December. " Even the term "Nevermore (Nevermore) was used for the effects of long vowel sound, ie the 'o', something that Poe had already experienced in other works.
The theme was chosen because of all melancholy topics, death is the most universally understood and there is nothing more poetic than the death of a woman, narrated by the lips of a lover deprived of his treasure. While many suggest that Poe was inspired by the early death of his mother, Eliza Poe, or tuberculosis involving his wife, Virginia, which is very safe.
After publication, Poe became famous almost immediately, and therefore was given the nickname 'The Crow'. The poem was reprinted massively and also parodied in the same way. But that did not give a financial success. The poem won the praise of many writers, but in turn got bad reviews by others, such as Ralph Waldo Emerson who said he saw nothing in it, or William Butler Yeats, who called it "insincere and vulgar. .. his performance, a rhythm toys. " However, the same diciedo Elizabeth Barrett wrote: "Your 'Raven' has produced feeling, a terror attack here in England. Some of my friends have been driven by the fear that produces and others for their music. I hear people in distress for 'Never again'. " Later, the poem has worked as an inspiration for works by other authors as Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov or The Parrot Who Knew Papa of Ray Bradbury. Today The Crow is undoubtedly his most famous poetic composition.
then leave a translation of the poem. I had intended to leave the original (in English) and that is simply not the same, it loses much of the real Poe's words. But then if I'm writing a blog in English, would make little sense to stop work in English. I selected the translation itself is not the best there is, but it represents something to me, and that is translating and Constantino Romero's voice was that I met him:
El Cuervo
Once upon a time, the edge of a midnight dreary, while
weak and tired, sad reflections embedded
bent over a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
nodded, nearly napping, suddenly
was heard a tapping,
as one gently rapping, rapping at
the door of my room.
"is - I mumbled - a visitor
'm playing at the door of my room.
That's it and nothing else."
Ah!
distinctly I remember that in the bleak December;
mass spectra moribund
reflected on the ground;
Eagerly I wished the morrow;
in vain to borrow From my books
give respite to my pain.
sorrow for the lost Lenore,
radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore.
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad, lazy, chilling
silk red curtains filled me with fantastic terrors
never felt before. And now here, standing
still the beating of my heart, I repeat
:
"It's a visitor at the door of my room waiting to get
.
Any visitor who wants my soul grew inside.
That's and nothing more. "
Now my soul grew stronger, hesitating then no longer
:
"Lord - I - or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
plus is that, sleepy
when you came to play quietly, so quietly
you came to call ,
to knock on the door of my room, I could hardly believe
sure I heard you. "
And then I opened wide the door
Darkness, and nothing else.
Deep into that darkness peering,
long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared
dreaming. But the silence
unfathomable silent stillness,
and
only word there spoken was the whispered word "Lenore?"
I delivered in a whisper, and echo it back
me in a whisper: "Leonora!"
just this, and nothing more.
Returning to my room, my whole soul, my soul
embracing within me, I soon
hear again play harder.
"Certainly - I said - certainly
something at my window lattice.
Therefore, let see what happens there,
and thus can penetrate the mystery.
Let my heart be still a moment,
and thus can penetrate the mystery. "
is the wind and nothing more!
Open here I flung the door,
and flutter, came
a stately raven of the saintly days of yore, with no sign of bowing
,
stay for a moment;
and air of lord or lady,
came to rest on the bust of blades on the lintel
my door.
Perched, still and nothing else.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy
a smile
the grave and serene
decorum of the countenance it wore.
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven - he said -.
no craven.
ghastly grim and ancient raven.
wandering from the nightly shore.
" Tell me what your name on the shore of the plutonic night! "
Quoth the Raven," Nevermore. "
Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so clearly
;
though its answer little meaning.
little relevancy bore.
For we can not help agreeing that no human being
blessed before the vision of a
bird perched on his chamber door,
bird or beast upon the sculptured bust of Pallas
in
his chamber door, With such name as "Nevermore."
But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust.
The words uttered, as
pouring his soul in that one word.
Nothing further then he
did not lift a pen, then
Till I scarcely more than muttered
"Other friends have gone before;
morrow he will leave me,
as I left my hopes."
Then the bird said "Nevermore."
Startled at break
silence so aptly spoken,
"no doubt - I thought - no doubt what he says
is all he knows, his solo repertoire, learned
from some unhappy master whom disasters
wicked persecuted, harassed without letting up until
their guard, had only one meaning,
until the dirges of his hope
took only
melancholy burden of "never, never again."
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy
a smile I wheeled a cushioned
seat in front of bird and bust and door;
and then, upon the velvet sinking, I began to linking
Fancy unto fancy,
thinking what this ominous bird of yore,
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird
old
meant squawking "Nevermore."
In this brooding, sitting without a word,
To the fowl whose eyes, as "firebrands,
burned into my bosom.
This and more I sat divining, with his head
in the velvet lining pad
caressed by the light of the lamp,
in purple velvet lining
caressed by the light of the lamp that she
oppress alas, never!
Then methought the air grew denser
,
perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled
on the carpeted floor,
"Miserable - I -, your God has granted
thee by these angels Respite, respite and nepenthe
from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh, is sweet nepenthe
and forget this lost Lenore! "
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet! - Exclaimed," thing of evil!
Prophet, if bird or devil
Tempter sent, or thrown by the storm
this desolate shelter and undaunted
on this desert land enchanted On this home
haunted by the horror!
Prophet, tell me, truly, I implore you,
is there, tell me is there balm in Gilead?
Tell me, tell me, I implore!
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet! - Exclaimed," thing of evil!
Prophet, if bird or devil
For this heaven that bends above our heads,
that God we both adore, Tell this soul
sorrow laden if, in the remote Eden
shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels
Leonora,
shall clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels
Lenore! "
Quoth the Raven," Nevermore. "
" Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend
! shouted presumptuous.
back into the tempest, on the shore of the plutonic night,
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken
! Leave my loneliness unbroken
. Leave the lintel
my door.
thy beak from out my heart
and take thy form from off my door.
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
And the Raven, never emprenió flight.
still is sitting, still is sitting in
the pallid bust of Pallas.
on the lintel of the door of my room.
And his eyes have
appearance of a demon that is dreaming.
And the lamplight o'er him
tends pours down his shade. And my soul from out that
shadow that lies floating on the floor,
can not escape. Never again!
Sources:
. El Cuervo
. The Crow (original language)
. Philosophy of Composition
. es.wikipedia.org
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