Oh woe is he who hath been touched by the spirit of fire,
For only woe has come from its flames.
Oh woe the ones who hath been burnt by its seven tongues,
And all those lost to its flames.
Quick to wrath is the spirit of fire and quick to follow are his sons,
Would I have seen the long road behind would I have been so quick to come?
I mourn not for my self but for those lost,
The hidden wood, my kin of the sea,
their blood has stained my hands.
Death I would greet as an old friend,
Yet death is not to come to me.
Here I am accursed,
Left to wander and to sing,
Of the woe of those burnt,
And the woe of those left.
Here I am left accursed,
Left to wander and to sing...
A/N
Done for feanorian week, day two Maglor.