===================
"The Raven"
===================
album _The Raven_
(Lou Reed, 2003)

written by Lou Reed
===================



Poe:

        Once upon a midnight dreary
        as 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."

        Muttering I got up weakly
        always I've had trouble sleeping
        stumbling upright my mind racing
        furtive thoughts flowing once more
        I, there hoping for some sunrise
        happiness would be a surprise
        loneliness no longer a prize
        rapping at my chamber door
        seeking out the clever bore
        lost in dreams forever more
        only this and nothing more

        Hovering my pulse was racing
        stale tobacco my lips tasting
        scotch sitting upon my basin
        remnants of the night before
        came again
        infernal tapping on the door
        in my mind jabbing
        is it in or outside rapping
        calling out to me once more
        the fit and fury of Lenore
        nameless here forever more

        And the silken sad uncertain
        rustling of the purple curtain
        thrilled me, filled me
        with fantastic terrors never felt before
        so that now, oh wind, stood breathing
        hoping yet to calm my breathing
        "'Tis some visitor entreating
        entrance at my chamber door
        some lost visitor entreating
        entrance at my chamber door
        this it is, and nothing more."

        Deep into the darkness peering
        long I stood there
        wondering fearing
        doubting dreaming fantasies
        no mortal dared to dream before
        but the silence was unbroken
        and the stillness gave no token
        and the only word there spoken
        was the whispered name, "Lenore."
        this I thought
        and out loud whispered from my lips
        the foul name festered
        echoing itself
        merely this, and nothing more

        Back into my chamber turning
        every nerve within me burning
        when once again I heard a tapping
        somewhat louder than before
        "surely," said I
        surely that is something at my iron staircase
        open the door to see what threat is
        open the window, free the shutters
        let us this mystery explore
        oh, bursting heart be still this once
        and let this mystery explore
        it is the wind and nothing more

        Just one epithet I muttered as inside
        I gagged and shuddered
        when with manly flirt and flutter
        in there flew a stately raven
        sleek and ravenous as any foe
        not the least obeisance made he
        not a minutes gesture towards me
        of recognition or politeness
        but perched above my chamber door
        this fowl and salivating visage
        insinuating with its knowledge
        perched above my chamber door
        silent sat and staring
        nothing more

        Askance, askew
        the self's sad fancy smiles at you I swear
        at this savage viscous countenance it wears
        Though you show here shorn and shaven
        and I admit myself forlorn and craven
        ghastly grim and ancient raven
        wandering from the opiate shores
        tell me what thy lordly name is
        that you are not nightmare sewage
        some dire powder drink or inhalation
        framed from flames of downtown lore
        quotes the raven, "nevermore."

        And the raven sitting lonely
        staring sickly at my male sex only
        that one word
        as if his soul in that one word
        he did outpour, "pathetic."
        nothing farther than he uttered
        not a feather then he fluttered
        till finally was I that muttered as I stared
        dully at the floor
        "other friends have flown and left me
        flown as each and every hope has flown before
        as you no doubt will fore the morrow."
        but the bird said, "never, more."

        Then I felt the air grow denser
        perfumed from some unseen incense
        as though accepting angelic intrusion
        when in fact I felt collusion
        before the guise of false memories respite
        respite through the haze of cocaine's glory
        I smoke and smoke the blue vial's glory
        to forget
        at once
        the base Lenore
        quoth the raven, "nevermore."

        "Prophet," said I, "thing of evil
        prophet still, if bird or devil
        by that heaven that bend above us
        by that God we both ignore
        tell this soul with sorrow laden
        willful and destructive intent
        how had lapsed a pure heart lady
        to the greediest of needs
        sweaty arrogant dickless liar
        who ascribed to nothing higher
        than a jab from prick to needle
        straight to betrayal and disgrace
        the conscience showing not a trace."
        quoth the raven, "nevermore."

        "Be that word our sign of parting
        bird or fiend," I yelled upstarting
        "get thee back into the tempest
        into the smoke filled bottle's shore
        leave no black plume as a token
        of the slime thy soul hath spoken
        leave my loneliness unbroken
        quit as those have quit before
        take the talon from my heart
        and see that I can care no more
        whatever mattered came before
        I vanish with the dead Lenore."
        quoth the raven, "nevermore."

        But the raven, never flitting
        still is sitting silent sitting
        above a painting silent painting
        of the forever silenced whore
        and his eyes have all the seeming
        of a demon's that is dreaming
        and the lamplight over him
        streaming throws his shadow to the floor
        I love she who hates me more
        I love she who hates me more
        and my soul shall not be lifted from that shadow
        nevermore








========================
"The Raven"
========================
album _Animal Serenade_
(Lou Reed, 2004)

Jun 24, 2003
The Wiltern, Los Angeles
========================


        Once upon a midnight dreary
        as 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, only this and nothing more."

        Muttering I got up weakly
        I've always had trouble sleeping
        stumbling upright my mind racing
        furtive thoughts flowing once more
        I, there hoping for some sunrise
        happiness would be a surprise
        loneliness no longer a prize
        rapping at my chamber door
        seeking out the clever bore
        lost in dreams forever more
        only this and nothing more

        Hovering my pulse was racing
        stale tobacco my lips tasting
        scotch sitting upon my basin
        remnants of the night before
        came again
        infernal tapping on the door
        in my mind jabbing
        is it in or outside rapping
        calling out to me once more
        the fit and fury of Lenore
        nameless here forever more

        And the silken sad uncertain
        rustling of the purple curtain
        thrilled me, filled me
        with fantastic terrors never felt before
        so that now, oh wind, stood still breathing
        hoping yet to calm my breathing
        "'Tis some visitor entreating
        entrance at my chamber door
        some lost visitor entreating
        entrance at my chamber door
        that it is, and nothing more."

        Deep into the darkness peering
        long I stood there
        wondering fearing
        doubting dreaming fantasies
        no mortal dared to dream before
        but the silence was unbroken
        and the stillness gave no token
        and the only word there spoken
        was the whispered name, "Lenore."
        this I thought
        and out loud whispered from my lips
        the foul name festered
        echoing itself
        merely this, and nothing more

        Back into my chamber turning
        every nerve within me burning
        when once again I heard a tapping
        somewhat louder than before
        "surely," said I
        surely that is something at my iron staircase
        open the door to see what threat is
        open the window, free the shutters
        let us this mystery explore
        oh, bursting heart be still this once
        let this mystery explore
        it's the wind, it's the wind and nothing more

        Just one epithet I muttered as inside
        I gagged and shuddered
        when with manly flirt and flutter
        in there flew a stately raven
        sleek and ravenous as any foe
        not the least obeisance made he
        not a minutes gesture towards me
        of recognition or politeness
        but perched above my chamber door
        this fowl and salivating visage
        insinuating with its knowledge
        perched above my chamber door
        silent sat and staring
        nothing more

        Askance, askew
        the self's sad fancy smiles at you I swear
        at this savage viscous countenance it wears
        Though you show here shorn and shaven
        and I admit myself forlorn and craven
        ghastly grim and ancient raven
        wandering from the opiate shores
        tell me, tell me, tell me what thy lordly name is
        that you are not nightmare sewage
        some dire powder drink or inhalation
        framed from flames of downtown lore

        And the raven sitting lonely
        staring sickly at my male sex only
        that one word
        as if his soul in that one word
        he did outpour, "pathetic."
        nothing farther than he uttered
        not a feather then he fluttered
        till finally was I that muttered as I stared
        dully at the floor
        "look you, other friends have flown and left me
        flown as each and every hope has flown before
        and as you no doubt will before tomorrow."

        But then I felt the air grow denser
        perfumed from some unseen incense
        as though accepting angelic intrusion
        when in fact I felt collusion
        before the guise of false memories respite
        respite, respite through the haze of cocaine's glory
        I smoke and I smoke the blue vial's glory
        to forget
        at once
        the base Lenore

        "Prophet," said I, "thing of evil
        prophet still, if bird or devil
        by that heaven that bend above us
        by that God we both ignore
        tell this soul with sorrow laden
        willful and destructive intent
        tell me, how had lapsed a pure heart lady
        to the greediest of needs
        sweaty arrogant dickless liar
        who ascribed to nothing higher
        than a jab from prick to needle
        straight to betrayal and disgrace
        the conscience showing not a trace."

        "Be that word our sign of parting
        bird or fiend," I yelled upstarting
        "get thee back into the tempest
        into the smoke filled bottle's shore
        leave no black plume as a token
        of the slime thy soul hath spoken
        leave my loneliness unbroken
        quit as those have quit before
        take the talon from my heart
        and see that I can care no more
        whatever mattered came before
        I vanish with the dead Lenore."

        But the raven, never flitting
        still is sitting silent sitting
        above a painting silent painting
        of the forever silenced whore
        and his eyes have all the seeming
        of a demon's that is dreaming
        and the lamplight over him
        streaming throws his shadow to the floor
        I love she who hates me more
        I love she who hates me more
        and my soul shall not be lifted from that shadow
        nevermore








========================================
"The Raven"
========================================
from the play _POEtry_
(Robert Wilson/Lou Reed, 2000)

performed by actors, local musicians (?)

May 09, 2001
Muziek Theater, Amsterdam, Holland
========================================


        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 visiter," I muttered,
        "tapping at my chamber door --
        Only this, and nothing more."

        (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 name
        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 visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door --
        Some late visiter 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 stillness 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."

        And 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 farther 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."
        But the bird said "Nevermore."

        (We go home)

        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 hath 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."

        (Never)
        (Never)
        (Never)

        "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 name Lenore --
        Clasp a rare and radiant maiden
        whom the angels name 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!




*********************************************************************
transcribed by Shiroh KOUCHI (wildside@mx21.tiki.ne.jp)
http://ww21.tiki.ne.jp/~wildside/
*********************************************************************