Great Edgar Allan Poe so dreamy
In his greatness:
For so in love with that word
Dream
He precisely reads both Earth
And Universe and Brain:
Albeit through intuition:
And according sings.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I have a vexed relationship with Poe. It seems to me the Dream was not a vision he pursued but a void he surrendered to. There is so much self-destructive energy in his characters and in himself. I am amazed poets like Baudelaire and Mallarme held him in such high regard. It seems you agree with those venerable poets in recognizing something in Poe which resonates. But compared to Walt Whitman and Emily Dickinson, Poe is a minor poet and a distraction from their greatness. But don't pay heed to me, if you love Poe. I'm expressing one man's opinion and I'm not to be trusted over Mallarme!