Feliz noche del terror

Escrito por las patitas de Cucaracha en su guarida lunes, octubre 31, 2011

THE RAVEN - EDGAR ALLAN POE



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 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 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, 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 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!


Y, además... Hoy toca Pesadilla antes de navidad. Continuación de mi tributo al cine de animación ^^




¡Feliz halloween a todos!

Cuando sobran las palabras

Escrito por las patitas de Cucaracha en su guarida sábado, octubre 29, 2011

Es curioso cómo a veces las mejores escenas de las películas, esas que se nos clavan y se quedan en la memoria para aparecer como un fogonazo emblemático cuando alguien nos menciona su título, son tan sólo una secuencia de imágenes y música sin diálogo.

Yo soy una amante de las letras, y defiendo a muerte el poder de las letras para crear atmósferas y sensaciones instantáneas, como un dibujo inmaterial que cambia su forma y contorno según los ojos del lector. Eso es inigualable, y creo que nunca cambiaré esa opinión. 
Sin embargo, a menudo creo que el poder de la música es equiparable al de las palabras. En otra dirección, pero en un sentido similar. También me encanta el cine; no se me puede considerar una cinéfila ni mucho menos, pero sí lo considero un arte. Lo que vengo a decir con todo esto es que, aunque siempre antepondré la literatura al cine -pues prefiero mucho más los entramados de sensaciones construidas a base de palabras a las historias plasmadas con imágenes y voces reales -creo que, a veces, el tándem formado por la unión de música e imágenes me hace dudar de mí misma y el orden de mis preferencias. En muchos casos, las películas que tanto nos gustan se quedarían en la mitad de lo que hoy son si carecieran de su banda sonora.

He aquí dos ejemplos de este tándem. Y he aquí también mi pequeño tributo al cine de animación, del que soy fan hasta la médula. Seguramente acabarán quitando los vídeos que voy a poner de youtube por motivos de copyright, así que agradecería que, si alguien se pasa por esta entrada en un futuro y ve que los enlaces a los vídeos no funcionan, me deje un comentario avisando. 


Forbidden friendship (Cómo entrenar a tu dragón): El vídeo tiene buena calidad, pero no se puede insertar en el blog. Hacer clic aquí para verlo directamente.


Kingdom dance (Enredados)





También me gustaría mucho que dejaseis enlaces a vídeos de otras escenas como éstas, sin diálogo, que os hayan robado el corazón. Pero sé que no lo vais a hacer, así que no pasa nada  XD.

PD: Por cierto, Esto solo puede pasar en halloween sigue operativo (bueno, seguirá abierto después, pero me refiero a que sigue actualizándose). El día 31 llegará el gran final... ¡Feliz halloween por anticipado!

PD2: Retiro lo dicho y añado este vídeo mandado por Saskia. Una escena de La novia cadáver con la música de Eduardo Manostijeras. ¡Le pega mucho!

 

Una sorpresa se deja caer en la guarida por halloween...

Escrito por las patitas de Cucaracha en su guarida viernes, octubre 21, 2011

¿Eso que suena desde la ventana son aullidos de lobo? ¿Y qué son esos extraños gruñidos y esos estremecedores lamentos que se oyen desde la lejanía? ¿No está siendo esta noche algo más larga de lo normal?

Quién sabe. Halloween está cada vez más cerca, cosas extrañas están empezando a suceder y parece que tienes un regalo esperando en tu puerta. ¿Sientes curiosidad? ¿Te atreves a abrirlo?