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                                 ¾Ö³Êº§¸®                      Annabel Lee                  

                                 ¿¤µµ¶óµµ                       Eldorado

                                 Çï·»¿¡°Ô                       To Helen

                                 F--s S, O--d¿¡°Ô         To F--s S, O--d

                                 ²Þ                               A Dream


     ¾Ö³Êº§ ¸®

                 - ¾Öµå°¡ ¾Ù·± Æ÷¿ì


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     ±×ÀÇ ½ÃÀû »ó»ó·ÂÀÌ ÃÖ´ë·Î ÁýÁßµÈ ½Ã·Î Æò°¡µÈ´Ù.


    
     Annabel Lee

                   - Edgar Allan Poe


     It was many and many years ago,

       In a kingdom by the sea,

     That a maiden there lived whom you may

       know

       By the name of Annabel Lee;

     And this maiden she lived with no other

       thought

       Than to love and be loved by me.


     I was a child, and she was a child,

       In this kingdom by the sea,

     But we loved wiyh a love that was more

       than love,

       I and my Annabel Lee;

     With a love that the winged seraphs of Heaven

       coveted her and me.


     And this was the reason that, long ago,

       In this kingdom by the sea,

     A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling

       My beautiful Annabel Lee;

     So that her high-born kinsmen came

       And bore her away from me,

     To shut her up in a sepulchre

       In this kingdom by the sea.


     The angels, not half so happy in heaven,

       Went envying her and me;

     Yes!- that was the reason(as all men know,

       In this kingdom by the sea)

     That the wind came out of a cloud by night

       Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.


     But our love it was stronger by far than the

       love

       Of those who were older than we,

       Of many far wiser than we;

     And neither the angels in heaven above,

       Nor demons down under the sea,

     Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

       Of beautiful Annabel Lee:


     For the moon never beams, without bringing

       me dreams

       Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

     And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright

       eyes

       Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

     And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the

       side

     Of my darling-my darling-my life and my

       bride,

       In her sepulchre by the sea,

       In her tomb by the sounding sea.



   ¿¤µµ¶óµµ

             - ¾Öµå°¡ ¾Ù·± Æ÷¿ì


   ȣȭ·Ó°Ô Ä¡ÀåÇÑ
   ¿ë°¨ÇÑ ±â»ç Çϳª°¡

   ÇÞºµ°ú ±×´ÃÀ» Áö³ª,
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   ¿¤µµ¶óµµ´Â ½ºÆäÀÎ »ç¶÷µéÀÌ »ó»óÇß´ø ³²¹ÌÀÇ ¾Æ¸¶Á¸ °­°¡¿¡
   ÀÖ´Ù°í Çϴ Ȳ±ÝÀÇ ³ª¶ó¸¦ ÀÏÄÆÁö¸¸, ¿©±â¼­´Â ÇѶ§ Ȳ±ÝÀ» ã¾Æ
   »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ¸ô·Áµé¾ú´ø ͏®Æ÷´Ï¾Æ¸¦ °¡¸®Å°´Â °Í °°´Ù.



Eldorado

           - Edgar Allan Poe


Gaily bedight,

A gallant knight,

In sunshine and is shadow,

Had journeyed long,

Singing a song,

In search of Eldorado.


But he grew old-

This knight so bold-

And o'er his heart a shadow

Fell as he found

That looked like Eldorado.


And, as his strength

Failed him at length,

He met a pilgrim shadow-

'shadow,'said he,

'where can it be-

This land of Eldorado?'


'Over the mountains

Of the Moon,

Down the Valley of the shadow,

Ride, boldly ride,'

The sade replied,-

'If you seek for Eldorado!'



Çï·»¿¡°Ô

               - ¾Öµå°¡ ¾Ù·± Æ÷¿ì


Çï·»ÀÌ¿©, ±×´ë ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ¸¶Ä¡
±× ¿¾³¯ ´ÏÄɾÆÀÇ µÀ´Ü¹è °°¾Æ¶ó.

¹æ¶û¿¡ ÁöÄ£ ³ª±×³×¸¦ Å¿ì°í
Çâ±â·Î¿î ¹Ù´Ù¸¦ °Ç³Ê À¯À¯ÇϰÔ
°íÇâ ÇØº¯À¸·Î ½Ç¾î´Ù ÁÖ´ø-


±×´ëÀÇ È÷¾Æ½Å½º °°Àº ¸Ó¸®Ä«¶ô,
¿ì¾ÆÇÑ ¸ð½À, ¿©½Å ³ªÀ̾ƽº °°Àº
±×´ë ÀÚÅ´Â

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±× ¿¾Àû ±×¸®½ºÀÇ ¿µ±¤, ·Î¸¶ÀÇ ¿õÀåÇÔÀ¸·Î
ÀεµÇϳ×.


¿À! ³ª´Â ±×´ë°¡ Àú ´«ºÎ½Å â°¡¿¡
Á¶°¢Ã³·³ ¼­¼­
¼Õ¿¡ ¸¶³ëÀÇ ÇâºÒÀ» µé°í ÀÖ´Â ¸ð½ÀÀ» º¸³ª´Ï!

¾Æ, ±×´ë´Â Á¤³ç
¼º½º·¯¿î ³ª¶ó¿¡¼­ ¿À½Å
¿©½Å ÇÁ½ÃÄÉ¿Í °°¾Æ¶ó!



To Helen

             - Edgar Allan Poe


Helen, thy beauty is to me

Like those Nicean barks of yore,

That gently, o'er a perfumed sea,

The weary, way-worn wanderer bore

To his own native shore.


On desperate seas long wont to roam,

The hyacinth hair, thy classic face,

Thy Naiad airs have brought me home

To the glory that was Greece,

And the grandeur that was Rome.


Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche

How statue-like I see thee stand,

The agate lamp within thy hand!

Ah, psyche, from the rigions which

Are Holy-Land!



F--s S. O--d¿¡°Ô

                       -¾Öµå°¡ ¾Ù·± Æ÷¿ì


»ç¶û¹Þ°í ½Í½À´Ï±î? ±×·¯½Ã´Ù¸é ´ç½Å ¸¶À½ÀÌ
Áö±ÝÀÇ ±æÀ» ¶°³ªÁö ¾Êµµ·Ï Çϼ¼¿ä!

¸ðµç °ÍÀ» Áö±ÝÀÇ ´ç½Å, ±×³É ±×´ë·Î,
´ç½Å ¾Æ´Ñ °ÍÀº ¹«¾ùÀÌµç µÇÁö ¸¶¼¼¿ä.


±×·¯¸é ¼¼»ó¿¡°Ô´Â ´ç½ÅÀÇ »ó³ÉÇÑ °Åµ¿,
´ç½ÅÀÇ ¿ì¾ÆÇÔ°ú ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿î ÀÌ»óÀÇ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº

³¡¾ø´Â Âù¾çÀÇ ´ë»óÀÌ µÇ¸®¶ó,
±× ¶§ »ç¶ûÀº---´Ü¼øÇÑ Àǹ«.



TO F--s S. O--d

               - Edgar Allan Poe


Thou wouldst be loved?- then let thy heart

   From its present pathway part not!

Being everything which now thou art,

   Be nothing which thou art not.

 
So with the world thy gentle ways,

   Thy grace, thy more than beauty,

Shall be an endless theme of praise,

   And love- a simple duty.



F-s S. O-d´Â Æ÷°¡ ÇÑ ¶§ Ä£ÇÏ°Ô »ç±Ï ¿©·ù½ÃÀÎ
ÇÁ·£½Ã½º ¼­ÀüÆ® ¿ÀÁî±Â(Frances Sargent Osgood)À» °¡¸®Å²´Ù.



²Þ

           -¿¡µå°¡ ¾Ù·± Æ÷¿ì


¾îµÎ¿î ¹ãÀÇ È¯»ó ¼Ó¿¡¼­
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ÇÏÁö¸¸ »ý¸í°ú ºûÀÇ ²Þ¿¡¼­ ±ú¾î
³»°Ô ³²°ÜÁø °Ç ¿ÀÁ÷ »óÇÑ ¸¶À½»Ó.


¾Æ! Áö³­ ¿¾³¯À» µÇºñÃç ÁÖ´Â
ºûÀ¸·Î ¼¼»ó ¿Â°® °ÍÀ»

¹Ù¶óº¸´Â »ç¶÷¿¡°Ô´Â
´ë³·¿¡µµ ²Þ ¾Æ´Ñ °Í ¹«¾ùÀÌ ÀÖÀ¸·ª?


Àú ±ú²ýÇÑ ²Þ- Àú ±ú²ýÇÑ ²ÞÀº,
¼¼»ó »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ¸ðµÎ ²Ù¢¾úÀ» ¶§

¿Ü·Î¿î ¸¶À½À» ÀεµÇÏ¿©
¾Æ¸§´Ù¿î ºûó·³ ³ª¸¦ °Ý·ÁÇÏ¿´´Ù.


±× ºû, ÆøÇ³°ú ¹ãÀ¸·Î ÇÏ¿©
Àú ¸Ö¸®¿¡¼­ ¶³°í ÀÖ¾ú´Ù Çѵé-

'Áø½Ç'À̶õ ´ë³·ÀÇ º°¿¡¼­
´õ ±ú²ýÇÏ°Ô ºû³ª´Â °Í ±× ¹«¾ùÀÌ ÀÖÀ¸·ª?



A Dream

                     - Edgar Allan Poe


In visions of the dark night

   I have dreamed of joy departed-

But a waking dream of life and light

   Hath left me broken-hearted.

 
Ah! what is not a dream by day

   To him whose eyes are cast

On things around him with a ray

   Turned back upon the past?


That holy dream- that holy dream,

   While all the world were chiding,

Hath cheered me as a lovely beam

   A lonely spirit guiding.


What though that light, thro' storm and night,

   So trembled from afar-

What could there be more purely bright

   In Truth's day-star?

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