Huub de Lange - 3 Edgar Allan Poe Songs - текст песни (слова)

1. A Dream Within a Dream
 
 Take this kiss upon the brow!
 And, in parting from you now,
 Thus much let me avow-
 You are not wrong, who deem
 That my days have been a dream;
 Yet if hope has flown away
 In a night, or in a day,
 In a vision, or in none,
 Is it therefore the less gone?
 All that we see or seem
 Is but a dream within a dream.
 
 I stand amid the roar
 Of a surf-tormented shore,
 And I hold within my hand
 Grains of the golden sand-
 How few! yet how they creep
 Through my fingers to the deep,
 While I weep- while I weep!
 O God! can I not grasp
 Them with a tighter clasp?
 O God! can I not save
 One from the pitiless wave?
 Is all that we see or seem
 But a dream within a dream?
 
 
 2. The Lake
 
 In spring of youth it was my lot
 To haunt of the wide world a spot
 The which I could not love the less--
 So lovely was the loneliness
 Of a wild lake, with black rock bound,
 And the tall pines that towered around. 
  
 But when the Night had thrown her pall
 Upon that spot, as upon all,
 And the mystic wind went by
 Murmuring in melody--
 Then--ah then I would awake
 To the terror of the lone lake. 
  
 Yet that terror was not fright,
 But a tremulous delight--
 A feeling not the jewelled mine
 Could teach or bribe me to define--
 Nor Love--although the Love were thine. 
  
 Death was in that poisonous wave,
 And in its gulf a fitting grave
 For him who thence could solace bring
 To his lone imagining--
 Whose solitary soul could make
 An Eden of that dim lake. 
 
 
 3. The Bells
 
 Hear the sledges with the bells - 
 Silver bells!
 What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
 How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
 In the icy air of night!
 While the stars that oversprinkle
 All the heavens seem to twinkle
 With a crystalline delight;
 Keeping time, time, time,
 In a sort of Runic rhyme,
 To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
 From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
 Bells, bells, bells - 
 From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
 
 Hear the mellow wedding bells - 
 Golden bells!
 What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
 Through the balmy air of night
 How they ring out their delight!
 From the molten-golden notes,
 And all in tune,
 What a liquid ditty floats
 To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
 On the moon!
 Oh, from out the sounding cells
 What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
 How it swells!
 How it dwells
 On the Future! -how it tells
 Of the rapture that impels
 To the swinging and the ringing
 Of the bells, bells, bells,
 Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
 Bells, bells, bells - 
 To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!
 
 Hear the loud alarum bells - 
 Brazen bells!
 What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
 In the startled ear of night
 How they scream out their affright!
 Too much horrified to speak,
 They can only shriek, shriek,
 Out of tune,
 In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
 In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
 Leaping higher, higher, higher,
 With a desperate desire,
 And a resolute endeavor
 Now -now to sit or never,
 By the side of the pale-faced moon.
 Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
 What a tale their terror tells
 Of despair!
 How they clang, and clash, and roar!
 What a horror they outpour
 On the bosom of the palpitating air!
 Yet the ear it fully knows,
 By the twanging
 And the clanging,
 How the danger ebbs and flows;
 Yet the ear distinctly tells,
 In the jangling
 And the wrangling,
 How the danger sinks and swells,
 By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells - 
 Of the bells,
 Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
 Bells, bells, bells - 
 In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!
 
 Hear the tolling of the bells - 
 Iron bells!
 What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
 In the silence of the night,
 How we shiver with affright
 At the melancholy menace of their tone!
 For every sound that floats
 From the rust within their throats
 Is a groan.
 And the people -ah, the people - 
 They that dwell up in the steeple,
 All alone,
 And who tolling, tolling, tolling,
 In that muffled monotone,
 Feel a glory in so rolling
 On the human heart a stone - 
 They are neither man nor woman - 
 They are neither brute nor human - 
 They are Ghouls:
 And their king it is who tolls;
 And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
 Rolls
 A paean from the bells!
 And his merry bosom swells
 With the paean of the bells!
 And he dances, and he yells;
 Keeping time, time, time,
 In a sort of Runic rhyme,
 To the paean of the bells,
 Of the bells - 
 Keeping time, time, time,
 In a sort of Runic rhyme,
 To the throbbing of the bells,
 Of the bells, bells, bells - 
 To the sobbing of the bells;
 Keeping time, time, time,
 As he knells, knells, knells,
 In a happy Runic rhyme,
 To the rolling of the bells,
 Of the bells, bells, bells - 
 To the tolling of the bells,
 Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
 Bells, bells, bells - 
 To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.