Man, it's been 1,5 years since the "Death of the Crow" poem was included in HSR 2.2 and I still hate it with a passion so I have to rant about it (in a nerdy English major fashion). Forgive me.
For anyone familiar with Edgar Allan Poe's The Raven, it should be obvious that this is an homage to it. Or a rewrite. And I have nothing against those. My problem is that it tries to follow the original's structure while completely butchering everything cool about it and it drives me insane.
Disclaimer: I don't actually know how the writing and localisation was handled, so I'm giving the writers and translators some grace. They may have first modified the Chinese translation of the poem and then had to fit the same ideas into the English original. Or perhaps the Chinese poem had some other poem as a basis and they decided to use The Raven for the English one. I simply don't know. What I do know is that translating poems is really hard and a random collectible is not going to be a priority for anyone. Recognising all of this, I'm only here to tell you why I hate this particular text.
The Raven is written in trochaic octameter, which means that each line consists of eight feet, where a stressed syllable is followed by an unstressed one. To put it very simply, it's eight times "DUM da" per line ("Once upon a midnight dreary[...]"). This is not the most natural rhythm for English, and the inverse metre (iamb, or "da DUM") is more common in English poetry. In fact, it's iambic pentameter (five feet) that gives Shakespeare's writing its conversational tone. When trochee is employed as strictly as Poe does, it can have an oppressive effect, like the words are urging you to continue. To give you a better idea, I'll break down the first stanza of the original poem, which was included almost word for word in Death of the Crow. Bold marks stressed (and half-stressed) syllables, colours are used to mark rhymes, | to separate the metrical feet, and a (number) at the end of each line to tell you the number of feet.
Once u|pon a | midnight | dreary,| while I | pondered,| weak and | weary, (8)
Over | many a | quaint and | curious | volume | of for|gotten | lore, (8)
While I | nodded, | nearly | napping, | sudden|ly there | came a | tapping, (8)
As of | some one | gently | rapping, | rapping | at my | chamber | door. “ (8)
“'Tis some | visi|tor,” I | muttered, | “tapping | at my | chamber | door— (8)
Only | this, and | nothing | more.” (4)
The first stanza of Death of the Crow basically only changes the pronouns (I -> you) and replaces the word "lore" with "dreams". The change does remove a rhyme, but I can look past that. The point is that it sets up a distinct rhythm with some delicious internal rhymes and repetition. It's setting this singsongy beat against a pretty ominous tone, as though something's lurking right beyond the veil of the words. Pretty fitting for Penacony, if you ask me. Let's see how the following stanza follows up on this.
Ah, do | you dis|tinctly re|member the | dew-doused | window | pane; (7)
And a | dying | baby | dove laid | like a | shadow | upon | the floor. (8)
Eagerly | you had | wished the | story | to meet | a hap|py end (7)
Eagerly | you had | wished no | birds would | plummet|, their de|mise to | bewail. (8)
Some soared | like shi|ning stars|, bound | for the sky... (5?)
While others | found only | demise |, in dust | they lie. | (5?)
So uh. I did my best to divide this into beats but it doesn't really follow a regular meter so it's up to interpretation and feels unnatural. The point is that the lines begin by following the trochee set up by Poe but mostly devolve into irregular free verse towards the end. This is especially true for the last two lines that didn't even borrow the beginning from Poe. It's pretty difficult to fit words like "bewail" and "demise" into the trochee scheme in the first place, when they have a natural stress on the second syllable. Feels like they were chosen purely because they felt "poetic". Also, they seem to have completely given up on rhyming, except for finding the laziest end-rhyme I've ever seen for the last two lines. And I don't know how they managed to borrow the beginning of the third line ("Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow") but still somehow messed up the rhythm. Reading this stanza out loud is very unsatisfying. I think it's the inconsistency that gets me the most.
Okay one more stanza and then I've ranted enough. Because the worst stanzas are the ones where they've tried to stitch complete lines from Poe together with their own. Even without looking at the meaning you can tell where one ends and the other begins. Try it:
Deep in|to that | darkness | peering, | long you | stood there | wondering, | fearing, (8)
Doubting, | dreaming | dreams no | mortal | ever | dared to | dream be|fore; (8)
Worms have | stained | satin, | and flames | consumed | doves with | broken | wings, (8)
A flame|-bathed ra|ven gree|ted you, | its voi|ce's rasp | that sings. (7)
"Sweet dreams | are no | paradise | of mine," | you whispered | and sighed. | "When I | cast my | eyes a|round —" (9)
Darkness | there and | nothing | more. (4)
Lines 1, 2 and 6 are Poe's (with "I" changed to "you"), the rest are rewrites. It gives me such whiplash when it sets up a regular meter after the previous, more or less freeform stanza, and then suddenly stutters again. It could be an effective stylistic device if it seemed intentional in any way. Line 4 also showcases the natural flow of a regular iambic metre ("da DUM, da DUM"), if only it wasn't surrounded by these irregular lines.
That's it, that's my stupid half-baked analysis.
After I read this Frankenstein of a poem for the first time, I grew a deep appreciation for Poe as a writer. So I guess something good came of it. But it bears repeating that I understand that a stylistic reproduction may not have been the highest thing in the localisation priorities, and the contents were the point. Doesn't mean I can't resent it for existing in the first place. I read it so many times for the Sunday lore bits just to get distracted and aggravated by the form.
P.S. The Raven has much more linguistic richness than this analysis would have you believe, and I completely glossed over all the half-rhymes and alliteration that contribute to the overall tastiness. I highly recommend you go read it and maybe even try reading it out loud.