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  • edgar allan poe nun super siiri..
  • edgar allan poe'nun müthiş şiiri.. bar açsam adini kuzgun koyardim..
    (bkz: yari taklitci zihniyet)
    (bkz: sozluk yazarlari bar acsa)
  • edgar allan poe nun şiirinden uyarlanmış,
    1976 tarihli ve the tales of mystery edgar allan poe isimli albümünde mevcut bir şarkı
  • edgar allan poe'nun aynı adı taşıyan şiirinde bu kuş bilinç ve bilinçaltı arasındaki bağı temsil eder. kuzgun bir adamın kapısını çalar. adam ise evinde oturmaktadır. vakit geceyarısıdır ve yılın sonlarına gelinmiştir. adam uykuya dalar ve zaten poe'nun anlattıklarının gerçek dünyada mı yoksa rüya aleminde mi geçtiği bu yüzden bilinmez. adam kuzgunu, poe'nun en sevdiği temalardan biri olan 'ölü güzel kadın'ı temsil eden lenoreden, yani ölüler dünyasından haberler getirdiğini düşünür ve ona sorular sormaya başlar. soruların karşılığında aldığı cevap ise hep aynıdır: nevermore. bu cevabın hem anlamı vardır hem de yoktur. bilinç ve bilinçaltının karşılaşması da bu noktada gerçekleşir. aslında adam monolog halindedir ve kuzgun bunun için sadece bir köprü oluşturur. poe aynı zamanda şiirin hipnotik, mistik ve şüphe yaratıcı bir hava yaratması için tekrarlamalara yer vermiştir, ses efektleriyle de müzikal ve melodik anlamda bir yapı oluşturmuştur.
  • alan parsons project'in bir nevi "ozetini cikarip" sarki sozu haline getirdigi edgar allan poe siiri.
  • once upon a midnight dreary, while i
    pondered, weak and weary,
    over many a quaint and curious volume
    of forgotten lore--
    while i nodded, nearly napping,
    suddenly there came a tapping,
    as of some one gently rapping, rapping
    at my chamber door.
    "'tis some visitor," i muttered,
    "tapping at my chamber door--
    only this and nothing more."

    ah, distinctly i remember it was in the
    bleak december;
    and each separate dying ember wrought
    its ghost upon the floor.
    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.

    and the silken, sad, uncertain rustling
    of each purple curtain
    thrilled me--filled me with fantastic
    terrors never felt before;
    so that now, to still the beating of my
    heart, i stood repeating
    "'tis some visitor entreating entrance
    at my chamber door--
    some late visitor entreating entrance
    at my chamber door; --
    this it is and nothing more."

    presently my soul grew stronger;
    hesitating then no longer,
    "sir," said i, "or madam, truly your
    forgiveness i implore;
    but the fact is i was napping, and so
    gently you came rapping,
    and so faintly you came tapping,
    tapping at my chamber door,
    that i scarce was sure i heard you" --
    here i opened wide the door; --
    darkness there and nothing more.

    deep into that darkness peering, long i
    stood there wondering, fearing,
    doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal
    ever dared to dream before;
    but the silence was unbroken, and the
    stillness gave no token,
    and the only word there spoken was the
    whispered word "lenore!"
    this i whispered, and an echo murmured
    back the word "lenore!"
    merely this and nothing more.

    back into the chamber turning, all my
    soul within me burning,
    soon again i heard a tapping somewhat
    louder than before.
    "surely," said i, "surely that is
    something at my window lattice
    let me see, then, what thereat is, and
    this mystery explore--
    let my heart be still a moment and this
    mystery explore; --
    "'tis the wind and nothing more!"

    open here i flung the shutter, when,
    with many a flirt and flutter
    in there stepped a stately raven of the
    saintly days of yore.
    not the least obeisance made he; not a
    minute stopped or stayed he;
    but, with mein of lord or lady, perched
    above my chamber door--
    perched upon my bust of pallas just
    above my chamber door--
    perched, and sat, and nothing more.

    then this ebony bird beguiling my sad
    fancy into smiling,
    by the grave and stern decorum of the
    countenance it wore,
    "though thy crest be shorn and shaven,
    thou," i said, "art sure no craven,
    ghastly grim and ancient raven
    wandering from the nightly shore--
    tell me what thy lordly name is on the
    night's plutonian shore!"
    quoth the raven, "nevermore."

    much i marvelled this ungainly fowl to
    hear discourse so plainly,
    though its answer little meaning--
    little relevancy bore;
    for we cannot help agreeing that no
    living human being
    ever yet was blessed with seeing bird
    above his chamber door--
    bird or beast upon the sculptured bust
    above his chamber door,
    with such name as "nevermore."

    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.
    nothing farther then he uttered--not a
    feather then he fluttered--
    till i scarcely more than muttered
    "other friends have flown before--
    on the morrow he will leave me, as my
    hopes have flown before."
    then the bird said "nevermore."

    startled at the stillness broken by
    reply so aptly spoken,
    "doubtless," said i, "what it utters is
    its only stock and store
    caught from some unhappy master whom
    unmerciful disaster
    followed fast and followed faster till
    his songs one burden bore--
    till the dirges of his hope that
    melancholy burden bore
    of 'never--nevermore.'"

    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;
    then, upon the velvet sinking, i betook
    myself to linking
    fancy unto fancy, thinking what this
    ominous bird of yore--
    what this grim, ungainly, ghastly,
    gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
    meant in croaking "nevermore."

    this i sat engaged in guessing, but no
    syllable expressing
    to the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned
    into my bosom's core;
    this and more i sat divining, with my
    head at ease reclining
    on the cushion's velvet lining that the
    lamp-light gloated o'er,
    but whose velvet violet lining with the
    lamp-light gloating o'er,
    she shall press, ah, nevermore!

    then, methought, the air grew denser,
    perfumed from an unseen censer
    swung by seraphim whose foot-falls
    tinkled on the tufted floor.
    "wretch," i cried, "thy god hath lent
    thee--by these angels he hath sent thee
    respite--respite and nepenthe from thy
    memories of lenore,
    quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and
    forget this lost lenore!"
    quoth the raven "nevermore."

    "prophet!" said i, "thing of evil!
    prophet still, if bird or devil!--
    whether tempest sent, or whether
    tempest tossed thee here ashore,
    desolate yet all undaunted, on this
    desert land enchanted--
    on this home by horror haunted--tell me
    truly, i implore--
    is there-- is there balm in gilead?--
    tell me-- tell me, i implore!"
    quoth the raven "nevermore."

    "prophet!" said i, "thing of evil! - prophet still,
    if bird or devil!
    by that heaven that bends above us - by that god
    we both adore --
    tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant
    aidenn,
    it shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name
    lenore --
    clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels
    name lenore."
    quoth the raven "nevermore."

    "be that word our sign of parting, bird
    or fiend!" i shrieked, upstarting--
    "get thee back into the tempest and the
    night's plutonian shore!
    leave no black plume as a token of that
    lie thy soul hath spoken!
    leave my loneliness unbroken! --quit the
    bust above my door!
    take thy beak from out my heart,and
    take thy form from off my door!"
    quoth the raven "nevermore."

    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!

    edgar allen poe - 29 ocak 1845

    muhte$em yorum icin bir daha ve illa ki (bkz: alan parsons project) ve de (bkz: tales of mystery and imagination)
  • bunlar da alan parsons project'in ilk albumu tales of mystery and imagination'da yer alan the raven'in eric woolfson ve alan parsons tarafindan "damitilimi$" sozleridir:

    the clock struck midnight
    and through my sleeping
    i heard a tapping at my door
    i looked but nothing lay in the darkness
    and so i turned inside once more

    to my amazement
    there stood a raven
    whose shadow hung above my door
    then through the silence
    it spoke the one word
    that i shall hear for evermore

    nevermore

    thus quoth the raven, nevermore

    and still the raven remains in my room
    no matter how much i implore
    no words can soothe him
    no prayer remove him
    and i must hear for evermore

    quoth the raven, nevermore
    thus quoth the raven
    nevermore
  • şiirin "suddenly there came a tapping/as of some one gently rapping/rapping at my chamber door" kısmı the crow adlı filmde geçer.
  • "the disk drive" versiyonuyla piç edilmiş olmakla birlikte neşeli bir hale bürünmüş güzel şiir. merak edenler için:

    once upon a midnight dreary, fingers cramped and vision bleary
    system manuals piled high and wasted paper on the floor
    longing for the warmth of bed sheets, still i sat there doing spreadsheets
    when finally at the bottom line, i took a floppy from the drawer
    then invoked the save command, waited for the disk to store
    only this and nothing more

    deep into the dark screen peering, long i sat there wondering, fearing
    doubting, while the disk kept churning, turning yet to churn some more
    but the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token
    “save!” i cried, “you cursèd mother! save my data from before!”
    one thing did the phosphors answer, only this and nothing more
    just “abort, retry, ignore?”

    was this some occult illusion, some maniacal intrusion?
    these were choices undesired, ones i’d never faced before
    carefully i weighed the choices, as the disk made impish noises
    the cursor flashed, insistent, waiting, baiting me to type some more
    clearly i must press a key, choosing one of only three
    just “abort, retry, ignore?”

    with fingers pale and eyes attending, slowly toward the keyboard bending
    longing for a happy ending, hoping all would be restored
    praying for some guarantee, timidly, i pressed a key
    but on the screen there still persisted, words appearing as before
    ghastly grim they blinked and taunted, haunted, as my patience wore
    just “abort, retry, ignore?”

    i tried to catch the chips off guard and pressed again but twice as hard
    i pleaded with the damn machine, i begged and cried and then i swore
    now in mighty desperation, trying any combination
    still there came the incantation, just as senseless as before
    cursor blinking, angry winking, blinking nonsense as before
    just “abort, retry, ignore?”

    there i sat, distraught, exhausted, by my own machine accosted
    getting up i turned away and paced across the office floor
    and then i saw a dreadful sight, a lightning bolt cut through the night
    a gasp of horror overtook me, shook me to my very core
    the lightning zapped my hard-won data, lost and gone forevermore
    just “abort, retry, ignore?”

    and to this day we do not know the place to which lost numbers go
    what netherworld from which we could restore
    beyond the reach of mortal souls, beyond the ether, to black holes
    but since there’s windows, lotus, c and more
    you will one day be left to wander, lost on some plutonian shore
    just “abort, retry, ignore?”
  • the simpsons'ın haloween special bölümünde lisa 'bart'a bu şiiri okuyodu.
    poe= homer
    lenore= marge
    raven= bart