A/N: i've been reading Tolkien again, and this poem
came to mind. actually, this picture in my head and i turned it into a poem.
these are the lines that inspired it: "mortality is not explained
mythically: it is a mystery of God of which no more is known than that 'what
God has purposed for Men is hidden': a grief and an envy to the immortal Elves."
(The Silmarillion, preface). please enjoy!
Faile
Namárië, Valimar!
She walks
silently through the glade,
Her
barefeet seemingly to float above the ground.
Her long
hair drifts in the soft breeze
While her
dress flows about her.
Her hands
gently—lovingly—touch the flowers,
Seeming to
caress the trees.
She stops
at a small white flower
Struggling
to raise its bloom.
Her eyes
fill with a sadness,
An
unspeakable sadness,
Telling of
ages long ago.
And
suddenly, her young age
Is
replaced with a timelessness.
She
reaches out a hand,
Whispers a
few soft words
And
straightens.
She looks
up,
And one
can see the haunting
In her
pale-blue eyes,
A longing
for something
She will
never reach.
She leans
upon the trunk
Of a
startlingly beautiful tree.
Tears flow
down her cheeks,
Unbidden
but unchecked.
She looks
about the glade,
And one
fancies she sees
More than
just flowers and trees.
Softly she
whispers,
"Ai,
Valimar,
í
vanwa ná, Rómello vanwa, Valimar!
Nai
elyë hiruva.
Namárië!"
A
swift glance, a soft word
Are
all the notice one has
Before
she slips into the shadows,
Seeming
to melt away.
Translation: Ah, Valimar, now lost, lost to those from the East is Valimar. Maybe even thou shalt find it, farewell!