Ai!
laurië lantar lassi súrinen,
yéni
únótimë ve rámar aldaron!
Yéni
ve lintë yuldar avánier
mi
oromardi lissë-miruvóreva
Andúnë
pella, Vardo tellumar
nu
luini yassen tintilar i eleni
ómaryo
airetári-lírinen.
Sí
man i yulma nin enquantuva?
An
sí Tintallë Varda Oiolossëo
ve
fanyar máryat Elentári ortanë
ar
ilyë tier undulávë lumbulë
ar
sindanóriello caita mornië
i
falmalinnar imbë met,
ar
hísië untúpa Calaciryo míri oialë.
Sí
vanwa ná, Rómello vanwa, Valimar!
Namárië!
Nai hiruvalyë Valimar!
Nai
elyë hiruva! Namárië!
Ah! like gold fall the leaves in
the wind,
long years numberless as the wings
of trees!
The long years have passed like
swift draughts
of the sweet mead in lofty halls
beyond the West, beneath the blue
vaults of Varda
wherein the stars tremble
in the voice of her song, holy and queenly.
Who now shall refill the cup for
me?
For now the Kindler, Varda, the
Queen of the stars,
from Mount Everwhite has uplifted
her hands like clouds
and all paths are drowned deep in
shadow;
and out of a grey country darkness
lies
on the foaming waves between us,
and mist covers the jewels of
Calacirya for ever.
Now lost, lost to those of the East
is Valimar!
Farewell! Maybe thou shalt find
Valimar!
Maybe even thou shalt find it!
Farewell!
