"O, satanic inferno's denizen -- go!"

"O, satanic inferno's denizen -- go!"

 

Suite de l’article précédent, et puisque les Français ne sont pas les seuls à avoir inventé des poèmes pour se souvenir des décimales du nombre Pi, voici ce qu’à écrit le poète et romancier Edgar Allan Poe :

Near a Raven :

  Midnights so dreary, tired and weary. 

  Silently pondering volumes extolling all by-now obsolete lore. 

  During my rather long nap - the weirdest tap! 

  An ominous vibrating sound disturbing my chamber's antedoor. 

  "This", I whispered quietly, "I ignore". 

  Perfectly, the intellect remembers: the ghostly fires, a glittering 

  ember. 

  Inflamed by lightning's outbursts, windows cast penumbras upon this 

  floor. 

  Sorrowful, as one mistreated, unhappy thoughts I heeded: 

  That inimitable lesson in elegance - Lenore - 

  Is delighting, exciting...nevermore.  

  Ominously, curtains parted (my serenity outsmarted), 

  And fear overcame my being - the fear of "forevermore". 

  Fearful foreboding abided, selfish sentiment confided, 

  As I said, "Methinks mysterious traveler knocks afore. 

  A man is visiting, of age threescore."  

  Taking little time, briskly addressing something: "Sir," (robustly) 

  "Tell what source originates clamorous noise afore? 

  Disturbing sleep unkindly, is it you a-tapping, so slyly? 

  Why, devil incarnate!--" Here completely unveiled I my antedoor-- 

  Just darkness, I ascertained - nothing more.  

 While surrounded by darkness then, I persevered to clearly comprehend. 

  I perceived the weirdest dream...of everlasting "nevermores". 

  Quite, quite, quick nocturnal doubts fled - such relief! - as my 

  intellect said, 

  (Desiring, imagining still) that perchance the apparition was 

  uttering a whispered "Lenore". 

  This only, as evermore.  

  Silently, I reinforced, remaining anxious, quite scared, afraid, 

  While intrusive tap did then come thrice - O, so stronger than 

  sounded afore. 

 "Surely" (said silently) "it was the banging, clanging window lattice." 

  Glancing out, I quaked, upset by horrors hereinbefore, 

  Perceiving: a "nevermore".  

  Completely disturbed, I said, "Utter, please, what prevails ahead. 

  Repose, relief, cessation, or but more dreary 'nevermores'?" 

  The bird intruded thence - O, irritation ever since! - 

 Then sat on Pallas' pallid bust, watching me (I sat not, therefore), 

  And stated "nevermores".  

 Bemused by raven's dissonance, my soul exclaimed, "I seek intelligence; 

  Explain thy purpose, or soon cease intoning forlorn 'nevermores'!" 

  "Nevermores", winged corvus proclaimed - thusly was a raven named? 

  Actually maintain a surname, upon Pluvious seashore? 

  I heard an oppressive "nevermore".  

  My sentiments extremely pained, to perceive an utterance so plain, 

  Most interested, mystified, a meaning I hoped for. 

  "Surely," said the raven's watcher, "separate discourse is wiser. 

  Therefore, liberation I'll obtain, retreating heretofore - 

  Eliminating all the 'nevermores' ".  

 Still, the detestable raven just remained, unmoving, on sculptured bust. 

  Always saying "never" (by a red chamber's door). 

  A poor, tender heartache maven - a sorrowful bird - a raven! 

  O, I wished thoroughly, forthwith, that he'd fly heretofore. 

  Still sitting, he recited "nevermores".  

  The raven's dirge induced alarm - "nevermore" quite wearisome. 

  I meditated: "Might its utterances summarize of a calamity before?" 

  O, a sadness was manifest - a sorrowful cry of unrest; 

  "O," I thought sincerely, "it's a melancholy great - furthermore, 

  Removing doubt, this explains 'nevermores' ". 

 Seizing just that moment to sit - closely, carefully, advancing beside it, 

  Sinking down, intrigued, where velvet cushion lay afore. 

  A creature, midnight-black, watched there - it studied my soul, 

  unawares. 

  Wherefore, explanations my insight entreated for. 

  Silently, I pondered the "nevermores".  

  "Disentangle, nefarious bird! Disengage - I am disturbed!" 

  Intently its eye burned, raising the cry within my core. 

  "That delectable Lenore - whose velvet pillow this was, heretofore, 

  Departed thence, unsettling my consciousness therefore. 

  She's returning - that maiden - aye, nevermore." 

 Since, to me, that thought was madness, I renounced continuing sadness. 

  Continuing on, I soundly, adamantly forswore: 

 "Wretch," (addressing blackbird only) "fly swiftly - emancipate me!" 

  "Respite, respite, detestable raven - and discharge me, I implore!" 

  A ghostly answer of: "nevermore".  

  " 'Tis a prophet? Wraith? Strange devil? Or the ultimate evil?" 

  "Answer, tempter-sent creature!", I inquired, like before. 

  "Forlorn, though firmly undaunted, with 'nevermores' quite 

  indoctrinated, 

  Is everything depressing, generating great sorrow evermore? 

  I am subdued!", I then swore.  

  In answer, the raven turned - relentless distress it spurned. 

  "Comfort, surcease, quiet, silence!" - pleaded I for. 

  "Will my (abusive raven!) sorrows persist unabated? 

  Nevermore Lenore respondeth?", adamantly I encored. 

  The appeal was ignored.  

 "O, satanic inferno's denizen -- go!", I said boldly, standing then. 

  "Take henceforth loathsome "nevermores" - O, to an ugly Plutonian 

  shore! 

 Let nary one expression, O bird, remain still here, replacing mirth. 

  Promptly leave and retreat!", I resolutely swore. 

  Blackbird's riposte: "nevermore".  

 So he sitteth, observing always, perching ominously on these doorways. 

  Squatting on the stony bust so untroubled, O therefore. 

  Suffering stark raven's conversings, so I am condemned, subserving, 

  To a nightmare cursed, containing miseries galore. 

  Thus henceforth, I'll rise (from a darkness, a grave) -- nevermore!  

Alors oui, bon, les trois premiers mots ne correspondent pas aux décimales de π, mais ensuite, on trouve les 740 suivantes… Il ne vous reste plus qu’à compter !