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.