ポーの擁護 Vindication for Poe (和訳中）

(もし通訳が間に合えなければ、よければPoe.comやChatGPTと、wiktionaryとweblio辞書を使って読めるなら嬉しいです。ポーさんは私の一番好きの詩人の一人ですし、恥ずかしい事でもあり、残念ながら自分の日本語力は下手くそで通訳には又時間が掛かるかもしれない。せめて概ねの事を分かれば嬉しいです。ポーの詩人としての美学と才能、特にあのボードレールさえを心酔させ、多く時間を掛けてポーの詩と小説をフランス語に通訳するほど、探偵小説だけではなくポーの独特な「純文学？」的な美学と才能をもっと日本の方々に教えたいです）
（「純文学」ではなく良いじゃ！安吾さん曰く；低俗の小説猥談にさえ美学を貫くのは文人墨客の真骨頂ではないか！）

Philomel, in silence, did sing; and get tired.
Poe, against silence, and for it too; may he rest in peace.

Good poets do not to pretend they are deaf and dumb.
No need for things subterrain to make verses profound.

Donning that air with pretenses and preen does much cheapen it.
That air must not be borrowed but lent. 

One must sing, thus. With particular attention--
Of the happily dead nitre and cold grime.
That in grave fastness does tender spring.
(And, do they, salient stinky funnily sing)

Sing, sing not for the spring.
Warmth in death pretended do often
Make people sick and forgetful 

Cold air is best expressed.
With dumb rotting flesh and white bones.
Flowers too, but Flour du Mal.
(All jolly though, the three went home
arms around shoulders in a bus!)

Fountains flow not from hope,
But lymph, rheum and acid.
Nymph has a wart on her arse.
Dream not dream, hit and abuse it.

Bruised, sleep now has better death now.
Who wants babies to cry when adults.
Are talking about subterrain liaison?
There is only need for one cot in one story.

Green with smarting tears,
Blue with whirling misuse.

Black with razor reason and science.
Red with shame, flatulence and Cubism art.

Pale seeds walking over the sky,
Dark earth buried under the tides.

Good poe-ets do not make things profound.
More than what are contained in a simple sound.
Philosophical lessons not learnt; studious
fools will always try to ask the same again.
(Ever searching forever searching Un-Go, more)
the good Poe-et:
He dips his toes into a dark blue blue pond.
Withdrawing it immediately and says:
T'is too cold,
Never again More.
And smiles, and by the fireside did eat, drink and sleep
Sweetly.