EastWesterly Review Home -- Blog -- EastWesterly Review -- Take2 -- Martin Fan Bureau -- Fonts a Go-Go -- Games -- Film Project -- Villagers -- Graveyard
Custom Search

EastWesterly
Review

Issues

38 | 37 | 36 | 35
34 | 33 | 32 | 31 | 30
29 | 28 | 27 | 26 | 25
24 | 23 | 22 | 21 | 20
19 | 18 | 17 | 16 | 15
14 | 13 | 12 | 11 | 10
9 | 8 | 7 | 6 | 5
4 | 3 | 2 | 1


   
Annual Conferences

24th | 23rd | 22nd | 21st | 20th
19th | 18th | 17th | 16th | 15th
14th | 13th | 12th | 11th | 10th
9th | 8th | 7th

Foundling Theory Fund

Letters from the editor

Submit your article

Links

Get e-mail when we update our site. Your e-mail:
Powered by NotifyList.com
help support us -- shop through this Amazon link!

© 1999-2016
Postmodern Village
e-mail * terms * privacy
The Sleeper / The Slipper
By Edgar Allan Poe and the EastWestern University Dada Cluster

The EastWestern University Dada Cluster is a society dedicated to using Microsoft Office®'s built-in dictionary and grammar checkers to correct works of literature. It has also been charged with using Babelfish to translate works of literature into foreign languages and back again.

[ Original excerpt -> Autocorrected by Microsoft Word 2007 -> Korean -> English -> Korean -> English]

New Version

To midnight, from June,
Stands on lower part of mysterious one months.
That vapor and the dew of the anesthesia which is vague
Comes into bearing, from her golden rim emits
And, softly at the outside, falling little by little exactly,
Is quite and buys and with the valley which is universal
With music in the normality, to make become sleepy and steals.
With maul nods to the grave; Lily in green onion lolls;
About it breast protecting the fog,
The downcast rots at remainder;
Like Lethe and seem, see!
The light sleep which has a lake ceremony
Had and, respects the world, under is awake
Boil did not do the thing.
All beautiful sleep! - And lo! With her fate joins in,
Fraud Irene, in the place!

Original Poem (excerpt)

At midnight, in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
An opiate vapor, dewy, dim,
Exhales from out her golden rim,
And, softly dripping, drop by drop,
Upon the quiet mountain top,
Steals drowsily and musically
Into the universal valley.
The rosemary nods upon the grave;
The lily lolls upon the wave;
Wrapping the fog about its breast,
The ruin moulders into rest;
Looking like Lethe, see! the lake
A conscious slumber seems to take,
And would not, for the world, awake.
All Beauty sleeps! — and lo! where lies
Irene, with her Destinies!

Read the rest at http://www.eapoe.org/works/poems/sleeperx.htm