Sedih tražeć smis’o toga, ne govoreći ni sloga
Ptici, čije žarke oči moju dušu rasplamtiše;
Tako misleć misli bone, pustih glavu da mi klone
I u baršun da mi tone, po kom svetlo senke piše,
Naslonit se na taj baršun, po kom svetlo senke piše,
Ona neće nikad više.
(nastaviće se)
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!