UMA NUVEM DE CORVOS

 

"O Corvo" em português: traduções, inspirações e ensaios


Arte quirográfica de Charles Sanders Peirce
sobre o poema The Raven.






ANÁLISES DE O CORVO:

"A ESPADA NO LIVRO"
' The raven ', de Edgar Allan Poe,
referências e suas traduções
.

de Cláudio Weber Abramo
Um ensaio sobre a tradução. Estudo detalhado sobre a gênese do poema "The Raven", de Edgar Allan Poe. Crítica a doze traduções desse poema para o português (é a maior reunião de traduções desse poema já publicada). Notas, bibliografia detalhada e índice remissivo (215 páginas).

Para carregar a obra, clique aqui: portable format document (PDF, 781 Kb).

lançado em livro pela ed. Hedra, 2011:

"O CORVO - GÊNESE, REFERÊNCIAS E TRADUÇÕES
DO POEMA DE EDGAR ALLAN POE"

de Cláudio Weber Abramo
Editora: Hedra, 2011
Brochura, 198 páginas, 16 x 23 cm, com ilustrações, 0,4 kg
ISBN: 978-85-7715-23

Para baixar o plug in, clique aqui: BAIXE O PLUG IN DE LEITURA GRATUITAMENTE



Veja os ensaios:

ANÁLISE DE "O CORVO" E DE SUAS TRADUÇÕES PARA O PORTUGUÊS
de Múcio Leão (com acréscimos, pesquisa e adaptação ortográfica de Iba Mendes).

 

UMA INFELICIDADE MACHADIANA
(sobre a tradução de O Corvo por Machado de Assis)
por Cláudio Weber Abramo.

 

QUEM FOI EDGAR ALLAN POE?
por Paulo Leminski.
(do livro "O Corvo", Ed. Expressão, 1986)

 

EDGAR ALLAN POE: VERSOS E REVERBERAÇÕES
por Lucia Santaella.
(do livro "O Corvo", Ed. Expressão, 1986)

 

A FILOSOFIA DA COMPOSIÇÃO
traduzido por Diego Raphael.

 

Leia:

O Corvo em prosa
traduzido por Helder da Rocha. com ilustrações de Doré

 

Visite o fórum de debates:

Fórum sobre "O Corvo"
(Edgard Allan Poe)

Tudo sobre Poe:
Edgar Allan Poe Society of Baltimore

The House of Usher

traduções em vários idiomas

 

Leia os livros:

"O CORVO, CORVOS E O OUTRO CORVO"
traduções do corvo, incluindo A Filosofia da Composição.
Organização e tradução de Vinícius Alves
Ed. da UFSC e Bernúncia Editora, 2000.

"O CORVO" e suas traduções.
— agora em 3ª edição —

Organização de Ivo Barroso. Ed. Leya, 2012.
confira o video: Livros: O Corvo e suas traduções - Ivo Barroso

"O CORVO TROPICAL DE EDGAR ALLAN POE"
in Tradução: Teoria e Prática
.

Org. Malcolm Coulthard e Carmen Rosa
Caldas-Coulthard. Florianópolis, Ed. da UFSC, 1991.

 

"A ESPADA NO LIVRO"
' The raven ', de Edgar Allan Poe,
referências e suas traduções
.

de Cláudio Weber Abramo
Um ensaio sobre a tradução. Estudo detalhado sobre a gênese do poema "The Raven", de Edgar Allan Poe. Crítica a doze traduções desse poema para o português (é a maior reunião de traduções desse poema já publicada). Notas, bibliografia detalhada e índice remissivo (215 páginas).

Para carregar a obra, clique aqui (PDF, 781 Kb).

lançado em livro pela ed. Hedra, 2011:

"O CORVO - GÊNESE, REFERÊNCIAS E TRADUÇÕES
DO POEMA DE EDGAR ALLAN POE"

de Cláudio Weber Abramo
Editora: Hedra, 2011
Brochura, 198 páginas, 16 x 23 cm, com ilustrações, 0,4 kg
ISBN: 978-85-7715-23

BAIXE O PLUG IN GRATUITAMENTE



THE RAVEN


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 someone 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 —
	That 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 the 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 —
	'T is the wind an 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 mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door —
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just a bove 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 marveled 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 beeing
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door —
Bird or beast upon the sculplured 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 outpoor.
Nothing further then he uttered, not a feather then he fluttered —
Till I scarcely more then 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 utteres is it 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 the melancholy burden bore
	Of 'Never — nevermore.'"

 
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy 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 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 has lent thee — by these angels he hath sent 
thee Respite — respite the nephente from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh, quaff this kind nephente and forget this lost Lenore!"
	Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

 
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! — prophet still, if bird of devil!
Whether Tempter sent, or whatever tempest tossed thee 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 of devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us — by that God we both adore —
Tell his 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 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 ALLAN POE - 1845






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