Vincent Price — 歌曲 Berenice 的歌词和翻译
此页面包含 Vincent Price 的“Berenice”的歌词和中文翻译。
歌词
MISERY is manifold. The wretchedness of earth is multiform. Overreaching the
wide horizon as the rainbow, its hues are as various as the hues of that arch —
as distinct too, yet as intimately blended. Overreaching the wide horizon as
the rainbow! How is it that from beauty I have derived a type of unloveliness?
— from the covenant of peace, a simile of sorrow? But as, in ethics,
evil is a consequence of good, so, in fact, out of joy is sorrow born.
Either the memory of past bliss is the anguish of to-day, or the agonies which
are, have their origin in the ecstasies which might have been
My baptismal name is Egaeus; that of my family I will not mention.
Yet there are no towers in the land more time-honored than my gloomy, gray,
hereditary halls. Our line has been called a race of visionaries;
and in many striking particulars — in the character of the family mansion — in
the frescos of the chief saloon — in the tapestries of the dormitories — in the
chiselling of some buttresses in the armory — but more especially in the
gallery of antique paintings — in the fashion of the library chamber — and,
lastly, in the very peculiar nature of the library’s contents — there is more
than sufficient evidence to warrant the belief
The recollections of my earliest years are connected with that chamber,
and with its volumes — of which latter I will say no more. Here died my mother.
Herein was I born. But it is mere idleness to say that I had not lived before
— that the soul has no previous existence. You deny it? — let us not argue the
matter. Convinced myself, I seek not to convince. There is, however,
a remembrance of aerial forms — of spiritual and meaning eyes — of sounds,
musical yet sad — a remembrance which will not be excluded; a memory like a
shadow — vague, variable, indefinite, unsteady; and like a shadow, too,
in the impossibility of my getting rid of it while the sunlight of my reason
shall exist
In that chamber was I born. Thus awaking from the long night of what seemed,
but was not, nonentity, at once into the very regions of fairy land — into a
palace of imagination — into the wild dominions of monastic thought and
erudition — it is not singular that I gazed around me with a startled and
ardent eye — that I loitered away my boyhood in books, and dissipated my youth
in reverie; but it is singular that as years rolled away, and the noon of
manhood found me still in the mansion of my fathers — it is wonderful what
stagnation there fell upon the springs of my life — wonderful how total an
inversion took place in the character of my commonest thought. The realities of
the world affected me as visions, and as visions only, while the wild ideas of
the land of dreams became, in turn, not the material of my every-day existence,
but in very deed that existence utterly and solely in itself
Berenice and I were cousins, and we grew up together in my paternal halls.
Yet differently we grew — I, ill of health, and buried in gloom — she, agile,
graceful, and overflowing with energy; hers, the ramble on the hill-side —
mine the studies of the cloister; I, living within my own heart, and addicted,
body and soul, to the most intense and painful meditation — she,
roaming carelessly through life, with no thought of the shadows in her path,
or the silent flight of the raven-winged hours. Berenice! -I call upon her
name — Berenice! — and from the gray ruins of memory a thousand tumultuous
recollections are startled at the sound! Ah, vividly is her image before me now,
as in the early days of her light-heartedness and joy! Oh, gorgeous yet
fantastic beauty! Oh, sylph amid the shrubberies of Arnheim! Oh,
Naiad among its fountains! And then — then all is mystery and terror,
and a tale which should not be told. Disease — a fatal disease,
fell like the simoon upon her frame; and, even while I gazed upon her,
the spirit of change swept over her, pervading her mind, her habits,
and her character, and, in a manner the most subtle and terrible,
disturbing even the identity of her person! Alas! the destroyer came and went!
— and the victim -where is she? I knew her not — or knew her no longer as
Berenice
Among the numerous train of maladies superinduced by that fatal and primary one
which effected a revolution of so horrible a kind in the moral and physical
being of my cousin, may be mentioned as the most distressing and obstinate in
its nature, a species of epilepsy not unfrequently terminating in trance itself
— trance very nearly resembling positive dissolution, and from which her manner
of recovery was in most instances, startlingly abrupt. In the mean time my own
disease — for I have been told that I should call it by no other appellation —
my own disease, then, grew rapidly upon me, and assumed finally a monomaniac
character of a novel and extraordinary form — hourly and momently gaining vigor
— and at length obtaining over me the most incomprehensible ascendancy.
This monomania, if I must so term it, consisted in a morbid irritability of
those properties of the mind in metaphysical science termed the attentive.
It is more than probable that I am not understood; but I fear, indeed,
that it is in no manner possible to convey to the mind of the merely general
reader, an adequate idea of that nervous intensity of interest with which,
in my case, the powers of meditation (not to speak technically) busied and
buried themselves, in the contemplation of even the most ordinary objects of
the universe
To muse for long unwearied hours, with my attention riveted to some frivolous
device on the margin, or in the typography of a book; to become absorbed,
for the better part of a summer’s day, in a quaint shadow falling aslant upon
the tapestry or upon the floor; to lose myself, for an entire night,
in watching the steady flame of a lamp, or the embers of a fire;
to dream away whole days over the perfume of a flower; to repeat, monotonously,
some common word, until the sound, by dint of frequent repetition,
ceased to convey any idea whatever to the mind; to lose all sense of motion or
physical existence, by means of absolute bodily quiescence long and obstinately
persevered in: such were a few of the most common and least pernicious vagaries
induced by a condition of the mental faculties, not, indeed, altogether
unparalleled, but certainly bidding defiance to anything like analysis or
explanation
Yet let me not be misapprehended. The undue, earnest, and morbid attention thus
excited by objects in their own nature frivolous, must not be confounded in
character with that ruminating propensity common to all mankind,
and more especially indulged in by persons of ardent imagination.
It was not even, as might be at first supposed, an extreme condition,
or exaggeration of such propensity, but primarily and essentially distinct and
different. In the one instance, the dreamer, or enthusiast, being interested by
an object usually not frivolous, imperceptibly loses sight of this object in a
wilderness of deductions and suggestions issuing therefrom, until,
at the conclusion of a day dream often replete with luxury, he finds the
incitamentum, or first cause of his musings, entirely vanished and forgotten.
In my case, the primary object was invariably frivolous, although assuming,
through the medium of my distempered vision, a refracted and unreal importance.
Few deductions, if any, were made; and those few pertinaciously returning in
upon the original object as a centre. The meditations were never pleasurable;
and, at the termination of the reverie, the first cause, so far from being out
of sight, had attained that supernaturally exaggerated interest which was the
prevailing feature of the disease. In a word, the powers of mind more
particularly exercised were, with me, as I have said before, the attentive,
and are, with the day-dreamer, the speculative
My books, at this epoch, if they did not actually serve to irritate the
disorder, partook, it will be perceived, largely, in their imaginative and
inconsequential nature, of the characteristic qualities of the disorder itself.
I well remember, among others, the treatise of the noble Italian,
Coelius Secundus Curio, «De Amplitudine Beati Regni Dei; «St.
Austin’s great work, the «City of God;» and Tertullian’s «De Carne Christi ,»
in which the paradoxical sentence «Mortuus est Dei filius; credible est quia
ineptum est: et sepultus resurrexit; certum est quia impossibile est, «occupied my undivided time, for many weeks of laborious and fruitless
investigation
Thus it will appear that, shaken from its balance only by trivial things,
my reason bore resemblance to that ocean-crag spoken of by Ptolemy Hephestion,
which steadily resisting the attacks of human violence, and the fiercer fury
of the waters and the winds, trembled only to the touch of the flower called
Asphodel. And although, to a careless thinker, it might appear a matter beyond
doubt, that the alteration produced by her unhappy malady, in the moral
condition of Berenice, would afford me many objects for the exercise of that
intense and abnormal meditation whose nature I have been at some trouble in
explaining, yet such was not in any degree the case. In the lucid intervals of
my infirmity, her calamity, indeed, gave me pain, and, taking deeply to heart
that total wreck of her fair and gentle life, I did not fall to ponder,
frequently and bitterly, upon the wonder-working means by which so strange a
revolution had been so suddenly brought to pass. But these reflections partook
not of the idiosyncrasy of my disease, and were such as would have occurred,
under similar circumstances, to the ordinary mass of mankind. True to its own
character, my disorder revelled in the less important but more startling
changes wrought in the physical frame of Berenice — in the singular and most
appalling distortion of her personal identity
During the brightest days of her unparalleled beauty, most surely I had never
loved her. In the strange anomaly of my existence, feelings with me,
had never been of the heart, and my passions always were of the mind.
Through the gray of the early morning — among the trellised shadows of the
forest at noonday — and in the silence of my library at night — she had flitted
by my eyes, and I had seen her — not as the living and breathing Berenice,
but as the Berenice of a dream; not as a being of the earth, earthy,
but as the abstraction of such a being; not as a thing to admire,
but to analyze; not as an object of love, but as the theme of the most
abstruse although desultory speculation. And now — now I shuddered in her
presence, and grew pale at her approach; yet, bitterly lamenting her fallen and
desolate condition, I called to mind that she had loved me long, and,
in an evil moment, I spoke to her of marriage
And at length the period of our nuptials was approaching, when, upon an
afternoon in the winter of the year — one of those unseasonably warm, calm,
and misty days which are the nurse of the beautiful Halcyon , — I sat,
(and sat, as I thought, alone,) in the inner apartment of the library.
But, uplifting my eyes, I saw that Berenice stood before me
Was it my own excited imagination — or the misty influence of the atmosphere —
or the uncertain twilight of the chamber — or the gray draperies which fell
around her figure — that caused in it so vacillating and indistinct an outline?
I could not tell. She spoke no word; and I — not for worlds could I have
uttered a syllable. An icy chill ran through my frame; a sense of insufferable
anxiety oppressed me; a consuming curiosity pervaded my soul; and sinking back
upon the chair, I remained for some time breathless and motionless,
with my eyes riveted upon her person. Alas! its emaciation was excessive,
and not one vestige of the former being lurked in any single line of the
contour. My burning glances at length fell upon the face
The forehead was high, and very pale, and singularly placid; and the once jetty
hair fell partially over it, and overshadowed the hollow temples with
innumerable ringlets, now of a vivid yellow, and jarring discordantly,
in their fantastic character, with the reigning melancholy of the countenance.
The eyes were lifeless, and lustreless, and seemingly pupilless,
and I shrank involuntarily from their glassy stare to he contemplation of the
thin and shrunken lips. They parted; and in a smile of peculiar meaning,
the teeth of the changed Berenice disclosed themselves slowly to my view.
Would to God that I had never beheld them, or that, having done so, I had died!
The shutting of a door disturbed me, and, looking up, I found that my cousin
had departed from the chamber. But from the disordered chamber of my brain,
had not, alas! departed, and would not be driven away, the white and ghastly
spectrum of the teeth. Not a speck on their surface — not a shade on their
enamel — not an indenture in their edges — but what that period of her smile
had sufficed to brand in upon my memory. I saw them now even more unequivocally
than I beheld them then. The teeth! — the teeth! — they were here, and there,
and everywhere, and visibly and palpably before me; long, narrow,
and excessively white, with the pale lips writhing about them, as in the very
moment of their first terrible development. Then came the full fury of my
monomania, and I struggled in vain against its strange and irresistible
influence. In the multiplied objects of the external world I had no thoughts
but for the teeth. For these I longed with a phrenzied desire. All other
matters and all different interests became absorbed in their single
contemplation. They — they alone were present to the mental eye, and they,
in their sole individuality, became the essence of my mental life.
I held them in every light. I turned them in every attitude. I surveyed their
characteristics. I dwelt upon their peculiarities. I pondered upon their
conformation. I mused upon the alteration in their nature. I shuddered as I
assigned to them in imagination a sensitive and sentient power, and even when
unassisted by the lips, a capability of moral expression. Of Mademoiselle Salle
it has been well said, «Que tous ses pas etaient des sentiments ,»
and of Berenice I more seriously believed que toutes ses dents etaient des
idees. Des idees! — ah here was the idiotic thought that destroyed me!
Des idees! — ah therefore it was that I coveted them so madly! I felt that
their possession could alone ever restore me to peace, in giving me back to
reason
And the evening closed in upon me thus — and then the darkness came,
and tarried, and went — and the day again dawned — and the mists of a second
night were now gathering around — and still I sat motionless in that solitary
room — and still I sat buried in meditation — and still the phantasma of the
teeth maintained its terrible ascendancy, as, with the most vivid hideous
distinctness, it floated about amid the changing lights and shadows of the
chamber. At length there broke in upon my dreams a cry as of horror and dismay;
and thereunto, after a pause, succeeded the sound of troubled voices,
intermingled with many low moanings of sorrow or of pain. I arose from my seat,
and throwing open one of the doors of the library, saw standing out in the
ante-chamber a servant maiden, all in tears, who told me that Berenice was — no
more! She had been seized with epilepsy in the early morning, and now,
at the closing in of the night, the grave was ready for its tenant,
and all the preparations for the burial were completed
I found myself sitting in the library, and again sitting there alone.
It seemed that I had newly awakened from a confused and exciting dream.
I knew that it was now midnight, and I was well aware, that since the setting
of the sun, Berenice had been interred. But of that dreary period which
intervened I had no positive, at least no definite comprehension.
Yet its memory was replete with horror — horror more horrible from being vague,
and terror more terrible from ambiguity. It was a fearful page in the record
my existence, written all over with dim, and hideous, and unintelligible
recollections. I strived to decypher them, but in vain; while ever and anon,
like the spirit of a departed sound, the shrill and piercing shriek of a
female voice seemed to be ringing in my ears. I had done a deed — what was it?
I asked myself the question aloud, and the whispering echoes of the chamber
answered me, — «what was it? «On the table beside me burned a lamp, and near it lay a little box.
It was of no remarkable character, and I had seen it frequently before,
for it was the property of the family physician; but how came it there,
upon my table, and why did I shudder in regarding it? These things were in no
manner to be accounted for, and my eyes at length dropped to the open pages of
a book, and to a sentence underscored therein. The words were the singular but
simple ones of the poet Ebn Zaiat: — «Dicebant mihi sodales si sepulchrum
amicae visitarem, curas meas aliquantulum fore levatas .» Why then,
as I perused them, did the hairs of my head erect themselves on end,
and the blood of my body become congealed within my veins?
There came a light tap at the library door — and, pale as the tenant of a tomb,
a menial entered upon tiptoe. His looks were wild with terror, and he spoke to
me in a voice tremulous, husky, and very low. What said he? — some broken
sentences I heard. He told of a wild cry disturbing the silence of the night —
of the gathering together of the household — of a search in the direction of
the sound; and then his tones grew thrillingly distinct as he whispered me of a
violated grave — of a disfigured body enshrouded, yet still breathing — still
palpitating — still alive !
He pointed to garments; - they were muddy and clotted with gore.
I spoke not, and he took me gently by the hand: it was indented with the
impress of human nails. He directed my attention to some object against the
wall. I looked at it for some minutes: it was a spade. With a shriek I bounded
to the table, and grasped the box that lay upon it. But I could not force it
open; and in my tremor, it slipped from my hands, and fell heavily,
and burst into pieces; and from it, with a rattling sound, there rolled out
some instruments of dental surgery, intermingled with thirty-two small,
white and ivory-looking substances that were scattered to and fro about the
floor
歌词翻译
苦难是多方面的。 地球的悲惨是多样的。 超越了
宽阔的地平线像彩虹一样，它的色调和拱门的色调一样多样 —
虽然也很独特，但却很密切地融合在一起。 超越了广阔的地平线
彩虹！ 为什么我从美中得出了一种不爱的感觉？
-从和平之约，悲伤的比喻？ 但是，在伦理,
邪恶是好的结果，所以，事实上，出于喜悦是悲伤诞生。
无论是过去的幸福的记忆是痛苦的一天，或痛苦
是，有他们的起源，这可能是狂喜
我的洗礼名字是埃盖乌斯;我的家人，我不会提到。
然而，有没有塔在土地上更多的时间比我的阴沉，灰色,
世袭殿堂。 我们的生产线被称为有远见的种族;
在许多引人注目的细节—在家庭豪宅的性格
行政轿车的壁画-在宿舍的挂毯-在
凿在军械库的一些扶壁-但更特别是在
古董画廊-在图书馆室的时尚-和,
最后，在图书馆的内容非常奇特的性质-还有更多
比足够的证据来证明这种信念
我早年的回忆与那个房间有关,
并与它的卷-其中后者我会说没有更多。 在这里死了我的母亲。
我在这里出生。 但它仅仅是懒惰地说，我以前没有住过
-灵魂没有以前的存在。 你否认? -让我们不要争论
物。 说服自己，我试图不说服。 有，但是,
对空中形式的记忆-精神和意义的眼睛-声音,
音乐又伤心-不会被排除的纪念;像一个记忆
阴影-模糊，可变，无限期，不稳定;像一个阴影，太,
在我摆脱它是不可能的，而我的理由的阳光
应该存在
我出生在那个房间里。 因此，从什么似乎漫长的夜晚醒来,
但不是，不实体，一次进入童话土地的非常区域-成
想象宫-进入寺院思想的野生统治和
博学-这不是奇异的，我凝视着我周围的一个惊讶和
热心的眼睛-我游荡了我的童年时代的书籍，消散我的青春
在遐想，但它是奇异的年滚走，中午
男子气概发现我仍然在我父亲的豪宅-这是美妙的什么
停滞有落在我生命的春天-美妙如何总
反转发生在我最常见的思想的性格。 的现实
世界影响了我的愿景，并作为唯一的愿景，而野生的想法
梦想的土地变成了，反过来，不是我的每一天存在的材料,
但在非常行动的存在完全和完全本身
Berenice和我是堂兄弟，我们在我的父亲大厅里一起长大。
然而，不同的，我们成长-我，身体不好，埋在黑暗-她，敏捷,
优雅，与能量四溢;她的，在山边漫步 —
矿修道院的研究，我，生活在我自己的心脏，并沉迷,
身体和灵魂，最激烈和痛苦的冥想-她,
漫游不小心通过生活，在她的路径没有想到的阴影,
或乌鸦翅膀小时的沉默飞行。 Berenice! -我呼唤她
名字-Berenice！ -而从内存的灰色废墟千动荡
回忆被震惊的声音！ 啊，生动地是她的形象摆在我面前,
正如在她的光心和喜悦的初期！ 哦，美极了
梦幻般的美丽！ 哦，sylph在Arnheim的灌木丛中！ 哦,
Naiad在它的喷泉中！ 然后-然后一切都是神秘和恐怖,
和一个不应该被告知的故事。 疾病-一种致命的疾病,
下跌后，她的框架像西蒙;，甚至当我凝视着她,
变化的精神席卷了她，弥漫在她的心中，她的习惯,
和她的性格，并以最微妙和可怕的方式,
扰乱甚至她的人的身份！ 唉！ 驱逐舰来了又走！
-受害者呢-她在哪 我不认识她-或者不再认识她
Berenice
在众多的疾病列车超导致命的和主要的
这影响了如此可怕的一种在道德和物理的革命
作为我的表弟，可以提到的最令人痛心和顽固的
它的性质，癫痫的一种并不经常终止于恍惚本身
-恍惚非常近似积极的解散，并从她的态度
在大多数情况下，恢复是惊人的突然。 同时我自己
疾病-我被告知，我应该调用它没有其他称谓 —
我自己的疾病，然后，在我迅速增长，并承担最后一个偏执狂
一个新的和非凡的形式的性格-每小时和momently获得活力
-并在最后获得了我最难以理解的优势。
这个偏执狂，如果我必须这样的术语，包括在一个病态的烦躁
形而上学科学中心灵的这些属性称为细心。
这是超过可能的，我不明白，但我担心，的确,
这是没有办法传达给仅仅一般的头脑
读者，一个充分的想法，紧张的兴趣强度,
在我的情况下，冥想的权力（不说技术上）繁忙和
埋葬自己，即使是最普通的对象的沉思
宇宙
缪斯长无劳时间，我的注意力铆接到一些轻浮
设备上的边缘，或在一本书的排版;成为吸收,
对于一个夏天的一天更好的一部分，在一个古朴的阴影下降aslant后
挂毯或在地板上;失去自己，整个晚上,
在看稳定的火焰灯，或火的余烬;
梦想走了整整天花的香水;重复，单调的,
一些常见的词，直到声音，力频繁重复,
停止传达任何想法无论心灵;失去所有的运动感或
物理存在，通过绝对的身体平静长和固执的手段
坚持：这是一些最常见的和最有害的变幻莫测
诱导的智力条件，不，事实上，完全
无与伦比的，但肯定投标蔑视像分析或
说明
然而，让我不要误解。 因此，不当，认真，病态的关注
兴奋的对象在自己的性质轻浮，不能混conf
字符与反刍倾向共同全人类,
尤其是那些想象力旺盛的人所沉迷的。
它甚至没有，因为可能是在第一次应该，一个极端的条件,
或夸大这种倾向，但主要和本质上是不同的
不一样 在一个实例中，梦想家，或爱好者，感兴趣的
一个对象通常不轻浮，不知不觉中失去了这个对象的视线
荒野扣除和建议由此发出，直到,
在一个白日梦的结论往往充满了奢侈品，他发现
incitamentum，或者他沉思的第一个原因，完全消失了，被遗忘了。
在我的情况下，主要对象总是轻浮，虽然假设,
通过我失散的视觉媒介，折射和不真实的重要性。
几个扣除，如果有的话，作出了;和那些几个有害的返回
以原始物体为中心。 冥想从来没有愉快的;
而且，在遐想的终止，第一个原因，到目前为止被淘汰
视觉，已经达到了超自然夸张的兴趣，这是
这种疾病的主要特征。 总之，心灵的力量更
特别是行使，我，正如我以前所说，细心,
和白日梦者在一起
我的书，在这个时代，如果他们实际上并没有起到刺激
障碍，partook，它会被认为，很大程度上，在他们的想象力和
无关紧要的性质，这种疾病本身的特征品质。
我清楚地记得，除其他外，高贵的意大利的论文,
Coelius Secundus Curio,"De Amplitudine Beati Regni Dei;"St.
奥斯汀的伟大工作，"上帝之城"和Tertullian的"德卡恩克里斯蒂 ,»
其中矛盾的句子"Mortuus est Dei filius;可信est quia
无能：等sepultus resurrexit;certum est quia impossibile est，"占用了我不可分割的时间，许多星期的费力和徒劳
调查
因此，它会出现，从它的平衡动摇，只有通过琐碎的事情,
我的理由孔相似，托勒密Hephestion所说的海洋峭壁,
稳步抵抗人类暴力的攻击，和激烈的愤怒
水和风，颤抖着只有触摸的花叫
阿帕德尔 虽然，一个粗心的思想家，它可能会出现超越的问题
怀疑，她不快乐的弊病产生的改变，在道德
Berenice的条件，会给我许多对象的行使
激烈和异常冥想的性质，我一直在一些麻烦
解释，但这种情况在任何程度上都不是这样。 在清醒的时间间隔
我的体弱，她的灾难，的确，给了我痛苦，并深深地考虑到心脏
她的公平和温柔的生活总残骸，我没有下降思考,
经常和痛苦后，奇迹工作手段，这么奇怪
革命突然发生了 但是这些反射
不是我的疾病的特质，如会发生,
在类似的情况下，对人类的普通群众。 真正的自己
性格，我的障碍陶醉在不太重要，但更令人吃惊
变化造成Berenice的物理框架-在奇异和最
令人震惊的歪曲她的个人身份
在她无与伦比的美丽，最明亮的日子，我肯定从来没有
爱她 在奇怪的异常我的存在，我的感情,
从来没有发自内心，我的激情总是发自内心。
通过清晨的灰色-之间的格子阴影
森林在正午-在我的图书馆在晚上的沉默-她飞过
我的眼睛，我已经看到了她-而不是生活和呼吸Berenice,
但作为一个梦想Berenice;不作为地球的存在，朴实,
但作为这样一个存在的抽象;不作为一个事情佩服,
但分析;不是作为爱的对象，但作为最主题
深奥虽然漫无目的的猜测。 而现在-现在我在她不寒而栗
存在，并在她的方法变得苍白，然而，痛苦地感叹她的堕落和
荒凉的条件，我打电话记住，她爱我长,
在一个邪恶的时刻，我跟她谈到婚姻
在我们的婚礼期间的长度接近时，经
下午在今年的冬天-那些异常温暖，平静的一个,
和mist胧的日子，这是美丽的太平的护士，-我坐在,
（和坐在，因为我想，单独）在图书馆的内部公apartment。
但是，令人振奋的我的眼睛，我看到Berenice站在我面前
是我自己兴奋的想象力-还是大气的mist胧影响 —
或室的不确定的黄昏-或灰色窗帘下跌
围绕她的身影-这造成它如此摇摆不定，模糊的轮廓？
我不能告诉。 她没有说话;和我-不是世界，我可以有
说出一个音节。 一个冰冷的寒意跑过我的框架;令人难以忍受的感觉
焦虑压迫我;一个消费的好奇心弥漫着我的灵魂;和下沉回来
在椅子上，我仍然有一段时间喘不过气来，一动不动,
我的眼睛紧盯着她的身体 唉！ 它的消瘦过度,
而不是一个遗迹前者被潜伏在任何单一的行
轮廓。 我在长度燃烧的目光落在脸上
额头很高，很苍白，奇平静;和一次码头
头发下跌部分超过它，掩盖了空心寺庙
无数卷发，现在一个生动的黄色，和不和谐不和谐,
在他们梦幻般的性格，与面容的统治忧郁。
眼睛毫无生气，无光泽，似乎pupilless,
我不由自主地从他们的玻凝视他的沉思
薄而萎缩的嘴唇。 他们分手;在一个奇特的含义的微笑,
改变了的贝雷尼斯的牙齿慢慢地向我的视线显露出来。
但愿我从来没有看见过他们，或者说，这样做，我已经死了！
一扇门的关闭打扰了我，抬头看，我发现，我的表弟
已经离开了分庭。 但是从我大脑的混乱室,
没有，唉！ 离开，并不会被赶走，白色和可怕
牙齿的光谱。 他们的表面上没有一个斑点-而不是他们的阴影
珐琅-不是在他们的边缘契约-但她的笑容那段
足以让我记忆犹新 我看到他们现在更加明确
比我当时看到的还要多 牙齿！ -牙齿！ -他们在这里，那里,
无处不在，明显和明显在我面前;长，窄,
过度白色，苍白的嘴唇扭动着他们，在非常
他们的第一个可怕的发展时刻。 然后来到我的全部愤怒
monomania，我白白挣扎着对其奇怪的和不可抗拒的
影响。 在外部世界的倍增对象，我没有想法
但对于牙齿。 对于这些，我渴望与phrenzied欲望。 所有其他
事项和所有不同的利益成为他们的单一吸收
默想 他们独自在场的精神眼睛，他们,
在他们唯一的个性，成为我的精神生活的本质。
我在每个光线下都抱着他们。 我把他们在各种态度。 我调查了他们
特点。 我谈到了他们的特点。 我在他们的思考
构象。 我沉思着它们的性质的变化. 我打了个寒颤，因为我
分配给他们的想象一个敏感和有情的力量，甚至当
不受嘴唇的支持，道德表达的能力。 萨勒小姐
它已经说得很好，"Que tous ses pas etaient des sentions ,»
和Berenice我更认真地认为，所有他的凹痕etaient des
idees. 你的主意！ -啊，这里是愚蠢的想法，摧毁了我！
你的主意！ -啊，所以这是我cov觎他们如此疯狂！ 我觉得
他们的财产可以独自永远恢复我的和平，给我回
原因
夜幕降临在我身上，然后黑暗降临,
和滞留，去-和天再次曙光-和第二个迷雾
晚上现在聚集周围-我仍然坐在那孤独一动不动
房间-我仍然坐在埋在冥想-仍然幻影
牙齿保持其可怕的优势，最生动的可怕
明显，它漂浮在一片不断变化的灯光和阴影
分庭。 在长度后，我的梦想打破了一声惊恐和dism丧;
于是停顿了一下，成功的声音困扰的声音,
混杂着许多悲伤或痛苦的低沉呻吟。 我从座位上站起来,
投掷打开图书馆的大门之一，看到站在
安特室仆人少女，都在流泪，谁告诉我，Berenice是-没有
更多！ 她被查获癫痫在清晨，现在,
在关闭的夜晚，坟墓是准备为其租户,
埋葬的所有准备工作都完成
我发现自己坐在图书馆，并再次独自坐在那里。
似乎我刚从一个困惑和令人兴奋的梦中醒来。
我知道，现在是午夜，我很清楚，由于设置
在太阳下，Berenice已经被埋葬了。 但那个沉闷的时期
干预我没有积极的，至少没有明确的理解。
然而，它的记忆充满了恐怖-恐怖更可怕的是模糊的,
和恐怖更可怕的模棱两可。 这是记录中可怕的一页
我的存在，写在暗淡，可怕的，不知所云
回忆 我努力破译他们，但徒劳的，而永远和匿名,
像一个离去的声音的精神，尖锐和刺耳的尖叫声
女性的声音似乎在我耳边响起。 我做了一件事-它是什么？
我问自己的问题大声，房间的耳语回声
回答我，-"这是什么？ "在我旁边的桌子上烧了一盏灯，靠近它躺着一个小盒子。
这是没有显着的性格，我经常看到它之前,
因为这是家庭医生的财产，但它是怎么来的,
在我的桌子上，为什么我不寒而栗呢？ 这些东西都没有
要占的方式，我的眼睛在长度下降到打开的页面
一本书，以及其中加重的句子。 这些词是单数，但
诗人Ebn Zaiat的简单的：-"Dicebant mihi sodales si sepulchrum
我们的朋友们，我们的朋友们，我们的朋友们，我们的朋友们，我们的朋友们。"为什么呢,
正如我仔细阅读，我的头发竖立自己结束,
我身体的血液凝固在我的血管里？
出现了在图书馆门口轻水龙头-和苍白的墓的租户,
一个卑鄙的脚尖进入。 他的容貌与野生恐怖，他说话
我的声音颤抖，沙哑，非常低。 他说什么？ -有些坏了
我听到的句子。 他告诉一个野生的哭声扰乱了夜晚的沉默 —
聚集在一起的家庭搜索的方向
声音;然后他的音调增长惊人的不同，因为他低声说我
侵犯严重-一个毁容的身体笼罩，但仍然呼吸-仍然
心悸-还活着！
他指着衣服;-他们是泥泞的凝固与血腥。
我不说话，他把我的手轻轻地：它缩进与
人类指甲的印象。 他指示我的注意力对一些对象
墙 我看了几分钟：这是一把铁锹。 随着尖叫，我界
到桌子上，并抓住躺在它的盒子。 但我不能强迫它
打开;在我的震颤，它从我的手中滑落，下跌严重,
并爆发成片;从它，用剑拔弩张的声音，有推出
牙科手术的一些工具，与三十二小混合,
白色和象牙色的前瞻性物质，散来回回约
地板