Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta Poe. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta Poe. Mostrar todas las entradas

viernes, 19 de julio de 2013

XXXV

"Sentía náuseas, náuseas de muerte después de tan larga agonía; y, cuando por fin me desataron y me permitieron sentarme, comprendí que mis sentidos me abandonaban. La sentencia, la atroz sentencia de muerte, fue el último sonido reconocible que registraron mis oídos. Después, el murmullo de las voces de los inquisidores pareció fundirse en un soñoliento zumbido indeterminado, que trajo a mi mente la idea de revolución, tal vez porque imaginativamente lo confundía con el ronroneo de una rueda de molino. Esto duró muy poco, pues de pronto cesé de oír. Pero al mismo tiempo pude ver... ¡aunque con qué terrible exageración! Vi los labios de los jueces togados de negro. Me parecieron blancos... más blancos que la hoja sobre la cual trazo estas palabras, y finos hasta lo grotesco; finos por la intensidad de su expresión de firmeza, de inmutable resolución, de absoluto desprecio hacia la tortura humana. Vi que los decretos de lo que para mí era el destino brotaban todavía de aquellos labios. Los vi torcerse mientras pronunciaban una frase letal. Los vi formar las sílabas de mi nombre, y me estremecí, porque ningún sonido llegaba hasta mí."

Fragmento extraído del cuento "El pozo y el péndulo", de Edgar Allan Poe. 

sábado, 9 de febrero de 2013

XXXII

"El señor Dickens miraba los pliegues de la capa donde Poe ocultaba las manos. Poe, sonriendo, sacó un gato negro.
-Para uno de los visitantes.
-¿Y para los otros?
Poe sonrió otra vez, complacido.
-¿El enterramiento prematuro?
-Es usted un hombre siniestro señor Poe."


Fragmento del cuento "Los desterrados", de Ray Bradbury.

miércoles, 21 de diciembre de 2011

The happiest day, the happiest hour.


The happiest day - the happiest hour
My sear'd and blighted heart hath known,
The highest hope of pride and power,
I feel hath flown.

Of power! said I? yes! such I ween;
But they have vanish'd long, alas!
The visions of my youth have been -
But let them pass.

And, pride, what have I now with thee?
Another brow may even inherit
The venom thou hast pour'd on me
Be still, my spirit!

The happiest day - the happiest hour
Mine eyes shall see - have ever seen,
The brightest glance of pride and power,
I feel - have been:

But were that hope of pride and power
Now offer'd with the pain
Even then I felt - that brightest hour
I would not live again:

For on its wing was dark alloy,
And, as it flutter'd - fell
An essence - powerful to destroy
A soul that knew it well.




Edgar Allan Poe.

martes, 19 de octubre de 2010

Annabel lee

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Edgar Allan Poe

domingo, 4 de julio de 2010

VI

"Y allí yace la voluntad, que no muere. ¿Quién conoce los misterios de la voluntad y su fuerza? Pues Dios no es más que una gran voluntad que penetra todas las cosas por obra de su fuerza. El hombre no se doblega a los ángeles, ni cede por entero a la muerte, si no es por la flaqueza de su débil voluntad."


Joseph Glanvill.

lunes, 14 de junio de 2010

Alone

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.

Edgar Allan Poe