Lament for Lothlórien
In the fading summer's light,
before the coming of the night;
Once more will go walking I,
while upon the trees, leaves lie.
Alas for land of my heart!
Lórien, of Valar's art.
I sing for thee though darkness fall;
the last of Elves, fair and tall.
Land of woven golden trees,
far across the Sund'ring Seas!
Will I ever more see thee,
over sea or leaf-filled lee?
Ah! my song for Lórien,
under tree and over fen;
Passed to silence, deep and grey
within a land, dark and fey.
Mordor's dreadful darkness weans;
yet stronger is Lothlórien's sheen:
The Elf queen protects it yet,
though Lothlórien's doom is set.
For the Elves pass to the West:
they are strong; have passed the test.
They diminish; leave their land
to what? Dark Lord's doom-filled hand.
Alas! Lórien, shining bright,
before the coming of the night;
Shadows fall on thee by day,
passing is my mournful lay.
In the fading summer's light,
before the coming of the night;
I forsake the golden land
for the glories of the sand.
Valinor awaits me yet,
alas: my final doom is set.
I shall pass into the West,
a future dearest and best.
Golden leaves in one last spray
fall gleaming in sun's last ray.
Farewell, Lórien the fair:
my spirit light wind shall bear.
O'er the Sund'ring Seas so cold,
across Grinding Ice of old.
My feet shall fly: air shall hold,
to the land of Lórien's lord.
Namárië, nya muin lóriendessë,
Minórë uin nya mell Lothlórien's nosta –
Farewell, belov'd golden lee:
land beyond the Sund'ring Sea.
