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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! Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the coutenance it wore. But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor. Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door! Era no frio dezembro, E o fogo, morrendo negro, urdia sombras desiguais.
Como, a tremer frio e frouxo, cada reposteiro roxo Me incutia, urdia estranhos terrores nunca antes tais! Noite, noite e nada mais. E esta ave estranha e escura fez sorrir minha amargura Com o solene decoro de seus ares rituais.
Mas o corvo, sobre o busto, nada mais dissera, augusto, Que essa frase, qual se nela a alma lhe ficasse em ais. Disse o corvo, "Nunca mais". Pelo Deus ante quem ambos somos fracos e mortais. Tira-te de meus umbrais! Tira o vulto de meu peito e a sombra de meus umbrais!
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