The Valley Of Unrest (wiersz klasyka)

Edgar Allan Poe

Far away - far away -
Far away - as far at least
Lies that valley as the day
Down within the golden east -
All things lovely - are not they
Far away - far away?

It is called The Valley Nis.
And a Syriac tale there is
Thereabout which Time hath said
Shall not be interpreted.
Something about Satan's dart -
Something about angel wings -
Much about a broken heart -
All about unhappy things:
But 'the Valley Nis" at best
Means 'the valley of unrest'.

Once it smil'd, a silent dell
Where the people did not dwell,
Having gone unto the wars -
And the sly, mysterious stars,
With a visage full of meaning,
O'er the unguarded flowers were leaning:
Or the sun ray dripp'd all red
Thro' the tulips overhead,
The grew paler as it felt
On the quiet Asphodel.

Now the unhappy shall confess
Nothing there is motionless:
Helen, like thy human eye
There th' uneasy violets lie -
There the reedy grass doth wave
Over the old forgotten grave -
One by one from the treetop
There the eternal dews do drop -
There the vague and dreamy trees
Do roll like seas in northern breeze
Around the stormy Hebrides -
There the gorgeous clouds do fly,
Rustling everlastingly,
Through the terror - stricken sky,
Rolling like a waterfall
O'er th' horizon's fiery wall -
There the moon doth shine by night
With a most unsteady light -
There the sun doth reel by day
'Over the hills and far away'.

przysłano: 5 marca 2010

Edgar Allan Poe

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