Thank Heaven! the crisis --
   The danger is past,
And the lingering illness
   Is over at last --
And the fever called "Living"
   Is conquered at last.
Sadly, I know
   I am shorn of my strength,
And no muscle I move
   As I lie at full length --
But no matter! -- I feel
   I am better at length.
And I rest so composedly,
   Now, in my bed,
That any beholder
   Might fancy me dead --
Might start at beholding me,
   Thinking me dead.
I think this excerpt could have just came out of a depressed teenager's mouth as easily as Poe's. I know that school has a similar effect as death sometimes. It's not a literal translation, but I think if Poe was in modern day high school, he would have shared the same opinion.