Translation Tuesday-The Raven Translated (Edgar Allen Poe)

This week, I had the pleasure of teaching my students the poem The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe.  I LOVE this poem.  Gothic poetry isn't really my thing, but the poetic devices Poe uses in this poem are fantastic- internal rhyme scheme, alliteration, repetition, symbolism, metaphors, theme, and mood.  I can't help but swoon over his words of doom and gloom.  This isn't quite the typical inspirational picker-upper of a post that tends to find it's way to my blog.  Nevertheless, it is my life in the classroom at the moment and I thought I would share.  Maybe it will help a student out there, or a class out there, or a teacher out there.  This poem is not an easy one to teach.  But here is my best stab at it. 

Below is the original poem in basic font, and underneath his lines in bold I have translated each line into more modern simplified language.  I tried my best to preserve the original structure and rhyme scheme because Poe composed it so beautifully.

 

The Raven

By  Edgar Allan Poe  

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

                Once upon a dark, cold night, while I thought sadly about my life

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

                Of many little and depressing things that have happened here before

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

                While I thought and drifted off, suddenly I heard a knock

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

                Someone softly, gently rapping, rapping at my door

“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—

                “It’s just a visitor,” I told myself, “tapping at my door—

 Only this and nothing more.”

                Only this and nothing more.”

 

 

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;

                Ah, I definitely remember, it happened in the dark December;

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

                And as the fire was going out it left scary shadows on the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow

                Eagerly I wished it was tomorrow;--in vain I had hoped I could borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—

                From my books, an escape from sorrow—sorrow for my lost Lenore--

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

                For the unique and beautiful woman who the angels name Lenore--

Nameless here for evermore.

                No longer here anymore

 

 And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

                Then came the silky, droopy, mysterious rustling of the purple curtain

Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

                It thrilled me and filled me with fears I never had before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

                So that now, to calm my racing heart, I stood repeating

 

 “’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—

                There must be someone at the entrance of my door--

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—

                Some late night visitor at my chamber door--

 This it is and nothing more.”

                It’s just a visitor and nothing more.”

 

 

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

                It was then my bravery grew stronger, I didn’t fear any longer,

“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

                “Mr,” I said, “Or Mrs., please forgive me," I ask through the door;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

                "I had just started napping and that’s when you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

                And so faintly I heard you tapping, tapping at my door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—

                I was sure I heard you"—so I opened wide the door;--

Darkness there and nothing more.

                Darkness there and nothing more.

 

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

                Deep into the darkness I looked, long I stood there thinking, fearing

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

                Doubting, thinking things no human ever thought before

 But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

                But the silence stayed unbroken, and the stillness did no hinting

 And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”

                And the only word that was fitting was the whispered word, “Lenore?”

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—

                This I whispered, and an echo mumbled back the word, “Lenore!”

 Merely this and nothing more.

                Only this and nothing more

 

 Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

                Back into my room I’m turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

                Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before

 “Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;

                “Sure,” I said, “surely that is something at my window sill

 Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—

                Let me see what this thing is and the mystery explore--

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—

                Let me calm down a moment and this mystery explore--

 ’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

                I’m sure it’s the wind and nothing more!”

 

 Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

                I flung open the shutter, then with lots of flap and flutter,

In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;

                In stepped a grand Raven of the good days of before;

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

                He did not get close to me; he didn’t come in for me to see

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—

                But perched with a look of a gentlemen or lady above my door--

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—

                Perched on a statue of Pallas just above my door--

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

                Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

 

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

                This black bird fascinated me and got me smiling

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

                With the strict and serious look it wore

“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,

                “Even though your feathers are trimmed and shaven,” I said, “I’m sure no cowardly

Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—

                Scary ugly old Raven flying around the darkened shore--

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”

                Tell me what your name is on the darkened shore!

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

                The Raven replied, “Nevermore.”

 

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

                I was amazed by this clumsy bird to hear him talk so plainly

Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;

                Though its answer meant so little—could almost be ignored    

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

                For we can all agree that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—

                Was ever blessed with seeing a bird above his bedroom door

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

                Bird or beast upon the sculpture above his bedroom door

With such name as “Nevermore.”

                With a name like “Nevermore.”

 

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

                But the Raven, sitting lonely on the statue, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

                That one word, as if the word came from his soul’s core.

Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—

                Nothing more did he say—not a feather then he fluttered--

Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—

                Until I hardly more than muttered “Other friends have flown before--

On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”

                Tomorrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have left before.”

Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

                Then the bird said, “Nevermore,”

 

  Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

                Startled by the quiet broken by a reply so rightly spoken,

“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store

                I said, “I bet that what it is said is the only word it can store

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster

                Learned from some unhappy master met with a cruel disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—

                Followed fast and followed faster until this song sang from his core

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore

                Until the songs of his Hope that depressed load he bore

Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

                Of “Never—Nevermore.”

 

 

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,

                But the Raven still held my attention and had me smiling

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;

                I pulled up a comfy chair in front of the bird, and statue and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

                Then upon the cushion sinking, I found myself binding

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—

                My ideas to his, thinking what is this gloomy bird of before

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore

                What this ugly, clumsy, scary, boney, and gloomy bird of before

Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

                Meant by saying, “Nevermore.”

 

 This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

                I sat there busy guessing, but no words was I expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;

                To the bird whose fiery eyes now burned into my soul’s core;

 This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

                This and more I thought with my head rested reclining

 On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,

                On the cushion’s velvet cover that the lamp-light shone over

But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,

                But the cover with the lamp-light glowing over

 She shall press, ah, nevermore!

                She shall press, ah, nevermore!

 

 Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

                Then, I thought, the air grew thicker, perfumed from an unseen incense

Swung by Seraphim whose tinkled on the tufted floor.

                Swung by Angels whose steps sounded on the carpeted floor

“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee

                “Poor thing,” I cried, “your God has sent you—by these angels he has sent thee

 Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;

                Wait—wait and lend me potion to forget my memories of Lenore;

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”

                Drink, oh drink this potion and forget this lost Lenore!”

 Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

                Said the Raven, “Nevermore.”

 

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—

                “Psychic!” I said, “thing of evil—psychic be still, if you’re a bird or devil!--

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

                Whether the devil sent you, or the storm threw you here on the shore,

 Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—

                Abandoned but unafraid, on this desert land hypnotized--

On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—

                In this home haunted by Horror—tell me honestly, I beg of you

Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”

                Is there—is there relief in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I beg of you!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

                Said the Raven, “Nevermore.”

 

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!

                “Psychic!” I said, “thing of evil!—psychic be still, if you are bird or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—

                By Heaven that is above us—by that God we both adore--

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant garden of Eden

                Tell my soul filled with sorrow if, within the far off

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

                It should hold a maiden saint who the angels name Lenore--

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”

                Grab a rare and beautiful woman who the angels name Lenore.”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”                   

               Said the Raven, “Nevermore.”      

 

 

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—

                Make that word a sign of your leaving, bird or friend!” I shrieked, starting--

“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!

                Go back into the storm and the Nighttime shore!

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

                Don’t leave black smoke as proof of the lie you have spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!

                Leave me with my lonliness!—leave the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”

                Take your beak out of my heart, and get away from my door!

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

                Said the Raven, “Nevermore.”

 

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

                And the Raven was never leaving, still he’s sitting, still he’s sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

                On the statue of Pallas just above my door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,

                And his eyes seem like eyes of a demon that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

                And the lamp light over him beaming makes his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

                And my soul came from the shadow that lies there on the floor

 Shall be lifted—nevermore!     

                Shall leave—Nevermore!

 

 

And if all else fails, check out the Simpson's version of The Raven.  It's not so bad.  It paints a less dark picture but still gets the point across.  Hey, anything you can do to get these millennials engaged, right?

 

If any teachers, students, or readers got something out of this, I would love some feedback or advice.  We will be studying Poe at least for the rest of the week.  He was a complicated man, after all.