Drink, ravens!
Drink of my blood,
for I am made of blood, not flesh.
For I am a sea of folly,
for I am a sea of misfortune,
for I am a sea of desolation.
Drink of my soul,
for I have none,,
drink of my heart
that I surrender with hands
stained by love,
drink of my shadow
that laughs waiting for death.
Drink of my hollow brain
of my wistful mind,
of my sin.
Drink, ravens,
drink of the suffering that no one sees,
of the fog that penetrates my sovereignty.
Drink, drink until thirst is quenched,
until you burst in Hell,
drink until not a remnant of my being is left,
not a bone, nor my wretched skin.
Drink until there is desert,
until darkness,
in each orb of tear,
in each drop of rancor.
But do not stop drinking, ravens!
Drink until the pain disappears,
until life itself has disappeared.Drink, ravens!
Drink of my blood,
for I am made of blood, not flesh.
For I am a sea of folly,
for I am a sea of misfortune,
for I am a sea of desolation.
Drink of my soul,
for I have none,,
drink of my heart
that I surrender with hands
stained by love,
drink of my shadow
that laughs waiting for death.
Drink of my hollow brain
of my wistful mind,
of my sin.
Drink, ravens,
drink of the suffering that no one sees,
of the fog that penetrates my sovereignty.
Drink, drink until thirst is quenched,
until you burst in Hell,
drink until not a remnant of my being is left,
not a bone, nor my wretched skin.
Drink until there is desert,
until darkness,
in each orb of tear,
in each drop of rancor.
But do not stop drinking, ravens!
Drink until the pain disappears,
until life itself has disappeared.Drink, ravens!
1 comentario:
A Poe le encantaría saber que en su bicentenario todavía influye tanto sobre algunos seres.
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