lunes, 4 de agosto de 2008

Ulalume (ay!)

The skies they were ashen and sober;
The leaves they were crisped and sere -
The leaves they were withering and sere;
It was night in the lonesome October
Of my most immemorial year;
It was hard by the dim lake of Auber,
In the misty mid region of Weir -
It was down by the dank tarn of Auber,
In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.

Here once, through an alley Titanic,
Of cypress, I roamed with my Soul -
Of cypress, with Psyche, my Soul.
There were days when my heart was volcanic
As the scoriac rivers that roll -
As the lavas that restlessly roll
Their sulphurous currents down Yaanek
In the ultimate climes of the pole -
That groan as they roll down Mount Yaanek
In the realms of the boreal pole.

Our talk had been serious and sober,
But our thoughts they were palsied and sere -
Our memories were treacherous and sere -
For we knew not the month was October,
And we marked not the night of the year -
(Ah, night of all nights in the year!)
We noted not the dim lake of Auber -
(Though once we had journeyed down here) -
Remembered not the dank tarn of Auber,
Nor the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.

And now, as the night was senescent,
And star-dials pointed to morn -
As the star-dials hinted of morn -
At the end of our path a liquescent
And nebulous lustre was born,
Out of which a miraculous crescent
Arose with a duplicate horn -
Astarte's bediamonded crescent
Distinct with its duplicate horn.

And I said - 'She is warmer than Dian:
She rolls through an ether of sighs -
She revels in a region of sighs:
She has seen that the tears are not dry on
These cheeks, where the worm never dies,
And has come past the stars of the Lion,
To point us the path to the skies -
To the Lethean peace of the skies -
Come up, in despite of the Lion,
To shine on us with her bright eyes -
Come up through the lair of the Lion,
With love in her luminous eyes."'

But Psyche, uplifting her finger,
Said - 'adly this star I mistrust -
Her pallor I strangely mistrust:-
Oh, hasten! - oh, let us not linger!
Oh, fly! - let us fly! - for we must.'
In terror she spoke, letting sink her
Wings until they trailed in the dust -
In agony sobbed, letting sink her
Plumes till they trailed in the dust -
Till they sorrowfully trailed in the dust.

I replied - 'This is nothing but dreaming:
Let us on by this tremulous light!
Let us bathe in this crystalline light!
Its Sybilic splendor is beaming
With Hope and in Beauty to-night:-
See! - it flickers up the sky through the night!
Ah, we safely may trust to its gleaming,
And be sure it will lead us aright -
We safely may trust to a gleaming
That cannot but guide us aright,
Since it flickers up to Heaven through the night.'

Thus I pacified Psyche and kissed her,
And tempted her out of her gloom -
And conquered her scruples and gloom;
And we passed to the end of the vista,
But were stopped by the door of a tomb -
By the door of a legended tomb;
And I said - 'What is written, sweet sister,
On the door of this legended tomb?'
She replied - 'Ulalume - Ulalume -
'Tis the vault of thy lost Ulalume!'

Then my heart it grew ashen and sober
As the leaves that were crisped and sere -
As the leaves that were withering and sere,
And I cried - 'It was surely October
On this very night of last year
That I journeyed - I journeyed down here -
That I brought a dread burden down here -
On this night of all nights in the year,
Ah, what demon has tempted me here?
Well I know, now, this dim lake of Auber -
This misty mid region of Weir -
Well I know, now, this dank tarn of Auber,
This ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.'

Edgar Allan Poe


Me lo acabo de encontrar. El video. Ay!!

Ay, Poe! Mi primer amor. El único a quien todavía sigo siendo fiel.

Dieciséis años que está a puntito de hacer desde que tuve por primera vez a Poe en la mano. Ay!


4 never more:

Galiceiro dijo...

ulalume ulalume...sublime el video. La mezcla de la música y la voz profunda del recitador es increible.

Me repito, lo sé, pero quiero que quede constancia de esto.

Buenas noches.

S. dijo...

Tus actualizaciones en este espacio van más rápido que mis últimas visitas a internet. Cuando leo algo y pienso en comentártelo posteriormente me encuentro con que para cuando vuelvo ya ha pasado hace mucho.
Aunque supongo que eso es lo de menos, realmente.

En el otro post que comentabas sobre la patria pensaba en que cuando me encontraba de visita por tu país, con algunos otros conciudadanos, muchas veces nos encontramos con que nos decían que éramos demasiado patrióticos.
Es extraño de explicar porque yo no mantengo por entero un concepto muy estricto de la patria y no me declararía patriótica sin más. Pero no sé, hay cosas como llevar a tu país demasiado dentro que me parecen fundamentales. O algo así, de esas cosas difíciles de explicar que se entienden sólo cuando ves postales viejas. O algo así.

Sobre la literatura, creo que también me tocó estudiar lo que siempre soñé, aún cuando a una semana de presentar el examen de admisión aún era capaz de inclinarme por derecho o arqueología. A la larga también la literatura es lo que más amo, y creo que esta condición me ha resultado óptima porque nos exenta un poco de adentrarnos demasiado en las cuestiones lingüísticas que mencionas y que no suelen ser tampoco demasiado de mi agrado.

Escribo como si esto fuera una carta. Jo.

Sobre lo de tu trabajo, con todo, suena bastante bien. Por aquí diría que hay pocas oportunidades para nosotros más allá de la docencia, cosa a la que no termino por hacerme de todo a la idea, diré.

En fin, lo corto antes de que siga contando mi vida, jo.
Bicos.

Anónimo dijo...

ay! ay! ay!


puedo recitar este poema con los ojos cerrados y ser feliz eternamente...


ulalume es como decir el universo!


gracias, guapisima! y un beso infinito!

(delirio)

Juan Antonio dijo...

Este poema no solo es de Poe. Es Poe. En él están todos los elementos que amamos de su universo poético.

Como en "The Raven", hasta el más insignificante detalle está dispuesto para conducirnos a ese final espléndido.