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By the broken stillness startled by that reply aptly made, "Surely," said I, "what it utters [is] its only stock and store By an ill-fated master [it] has been learnt, whom pitiless Destruction Had pursued fast and faster till his singing a burden sowed— Till the dirge of his Hope that melancholy burden sowed Of [the] ‘hard—nevermore’." 12) Mal, i Korko en luhtaila quana intyaleny‘ an raila, Maxa hanwa linta rumnen epe aiwe, kára, fende; Etta i tuenna sumben, rikiénen limya umben Intya intyan i ké tumben...