爱德加。坡——桀骜的天才

贵族罗兰

在这个世界上，没有一个人，我再重复一遍，从没有任何一个人能像他那样把人生的诸多特点用如此神奇的方法表达出来。。。幻像首先让人产生怀疑，紧接着如同一本书那样逻辑和让人信服；疯狂在智慧中生根并且最终用一种让人难以置信的逻辑统治它；空想夺取了行动的位置，矛盾在神经和心灵中发芽，人用笑声来表示自己的痛苦。他研究世界上所有不可能的幻想，他创造时空的断层并用他特有的细节性和科学性描述一个激动的人如何利用幻想去做恶。

这是查尔斯。波德莱尔评价爱德加。坡的话。从他为坡写的序言中可以看出，诗人对坡崇拜的五体投地。他说“世界上从没有这样一个天才被如此的埋没。”的确，即使在今天，许多人仍然对坡一无所知。这要归功于中国的教育，当西方把坡和莫伯桑等人列为短篇小说大家和改革者的时候，东方仍然认为所谓的神秘主义不能登大雅之堂。中文评价坡的资料大多是说他是科幻小说（本身就值得怀疑），侦探小说和神秘主义的鼻祖，也许根本不看重他在文学史上的地位。先看看这一段评价：“他的一系列神秘小说对后来的科幻文学影响巨大”，这是否属于实情呢？我想起了关于莫伯桑的评价，似乎只提他的批判现实主义，而不提他晚年写的超现实短篇小说，如〈HORLA〉。波德莱尔第一次把坡的作品翻译成法语，收编在三个集中：《怪异故事集》，《新怪异故事集》和〈滑稽荒诞故事集〉。这里面的故事多半是一种当时还是“四不像“的文体，把逻辑和空想结合起来，其意义远远超出了通俗的侦探推理小说。坡还是一个才华横溢的诗人，他的代表作〈乌鸦〉是诗中精品，但却很少听说有东方的研究者提起。
坡一生非常悲惨，幼年丧失父母，被一个富翁收养，但父子关系却闹的很僵，他的养父对他毫无感情，遗嘱里不让他继承分文财富。他热爱诗文，但他的才华得不到赏识，天天生活在郁闷之中，开始酗酒和赌博，还因此而欠了一大笔债。他干过各种各样的职业，当过兵，生活依然窘迫。〈乌鸦〉发表后为他带来了荣誉，但没有为他带来金钱，在1849年10月6日，人们在肮脏的街头发现了一个衣衫褴褛不醒人事的人，那是临死的爱德加。坡，7号他在医院死去，年仅37岁。他在诗中写道：”从童年开始，我就没有其他孩子那样的生活。“
坡的诗歌也如同他的短篇小说那样古怪，有些诗表现出一种很美好的幻想，有些诗则是充满着一种浪漫主义情调，但最有特色的还是那些表达对现实失望，无奈以及一种颓废心态的诗歌，因为坡本人对此有非常深刻的感触，所以这些诗一般都更能触动人心，代表作就是那篇著名的〈乌鸦〉。

以上是个人对坡的一点看法，欢迎大家都来讨论一下

vicky.lh

黑猫确实写得好啊，特别如果了解爱伦。坡的生平更是觉得他写得深刻。爱伦。坡的个人经历也很传奇，个人认为，黑猫和他本人经历相似。

vicky.lh

黑猫确实写得好啊，特别如果了解爱伦。坡的生平更是觉得他写得深刻。爱伦。坡的个人经历也很传奇，个人认为，黑猫和他本人经历相似。

vicky.lh

黑猫确实写得好啊，特别如果了解爱伦。坡的生平更是觉得他写得深刻。爱伦。坡的个人经历也很传奇，个人认为，黑猫和他本人经历相似。

vicky.lh

黑猫确实写得好啊，特别如果了解爱伦。坡的生平更是觉得他写得深刻。爱伦。坡的个人经历也很传奇，个人认为，黑猫和他本人经历相似。

vicky.lh

黑猫确实写得好啊，特别如果了解爱伦。坡的生平更是觉得他写得深刻。爱伦。坡的个人经历也很传奇，个人认为，黑猫和他本人经历相似。

vicky.lh

黑猫确实写得好啊，特别如果了解爱伦。坡的生平更是觉得他写得深刻。爱伦。坡的个人经历也很传奇，个人认为，黑猫和他本人经历相似。

hesse

又了了解了一些。

病恹恹的花

原帖由 奥利维埃 于 2006-1-30 02:37 AM 发表
我记得出过一个3张DVD的断片集都是爱伦坡的作品但是具体都有什么想不起来了

是不是这个？前两天看过，德龙主演，简直帅呆了。

面对死亡
导演：罗杰.瓦迪姆 路易.马勒  
主演：阿兰.德隆 布拉德.兰弗  
类型：剧情片
上映：2006-10-6
地区：欧美片
语言：英语
片长：100分钟

评分：  

资费：频道包月 15元/月

编辑推荐：
三位欧洲名导联手拍摄震惊影史的平行式短片.  

《面对死亡》 剧情：   
大师级影片集恐怖、宗教、凶杀、变态于一体的异色之作！费里尼的叫作《该死的托比》讲述一个演员来到罗马参与一部西部风格的宗教片的拍摄，在里面扮演耶稣；马勒的片段叫作《威廉·威、尔逊》，阿兰·德隆分饰两角，其中一个追杀另一个，而芭铎头戴黑色假发神秘出场，这一段表现得很细腻；瓦迪姆的片段叫作《门泽哲斯坦》，由方达兄妹扮演恋人，男的死后，女的把一匹黑骏马作为替代。

[ 本帖最后由 病恹恹的花 于 2006-12-10 04:10 PM 编辑 ]

Bernhardt

The Raven

[First published in 1845]
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 some one 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 named 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; -
This 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 that 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 darkness 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; -
'Tis the wind and 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 above 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 marvelled 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 being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured 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 outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow will he 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 utters is its 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 that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul 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, 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 the 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 hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here 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 or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named 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's 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!