[en] The English RPG Forum > RPG Library

Antique Lyrics of Arda

<< < (148/253) > >>

Walküre:
I behold you, albeit from afar


I behold you, albeit from afar,
I see that valour may not wane,
If one harbours courage and not terror,
Indeed, the idle eye will not be given that privilege,
The witless mind could not understand,
Chained to desperation,
The captive loses hope,
Not everyone may find a way,
Some might need the helping hand of the other,
Coming to the rescue and bursting with goodwill.

Faithless is he who forsakes the road,
When it gets tough and hard,
At least, this is what a wiseman told me,
I feel like making such words my creed,
I need your blessing, contemplating the immensity,
How is it to bear the burden of millennia, my Queen?
How is it to sit on a diamond-made throne and decree what ought to be?
I am certain of your doing and of the judgement of our King,
To him only the right to decide was granted,
Pray, I shall find my path and aid the marred.

Walküre:
Quiet, now


Quiet, now, stay your wrath!
Mountain, mighty bastion and perilous path,
Furious gales, your scathed side they quake,
A fell voice in the air, which is to darken the sky and you gloomier to make.

Then, you replied in cruelty and our advancing you hinder,
We cannot go further, lest we risk a sad ending and vainly wander,
Whither shall the Fellowship head, not to regret the mission and wail?
You shut your passage, sending us evil hail.

Walküre:
Thy reason


Thy reason, Thy Majesty, never hast thou lost,
At the seat of might, prime and foremost,
To face the effects of malice, recurrent ghost,
For the salvation of all lands, who beauty still boast.

We invoke thee, for very known is thy wisdom,
Thou dost just and good, ruling over the Lit Earldom,
Untrodden places were by thee explored, through stars and ether is the way,
Beside the King wilt thou rest, and we worship your divine say.

Walküre:
It gets dreary


It gets dreary very fast, around here,
Next to the peaks of ashes,
Among the old glory of Gondor,
Buried in the ground or concealed amidst weed,
Reminder of hard times, worsened as rapid winds,
That blow afar and howl, crying the misery of our present,
It gets dangerous here, lone and secluded,
The vigilance of Men has faltered and almost gone,
Leaving these borders desolate and raw as nasty nature,
It gets solitary, when none of decent visage passes by.

Only Rangers pay sometimes a visit,
Furtive and calm,
They need patrol these dark edges,
At the border with hell,
They became less frequent guests, though,
Rumbling the thunder of war,
It is just a wasteland now,
Trodden by wicked feet,
Should one continue the journey, he shall find the route,
To a cursed stronghold and treacherous stairs.

Walküre:
You wished to have their company


Thither we have never journeyed,
Alas, for strong are the bonds with mortal soil,
We would rather remain here,
Next to the warm dwelling and friendly ones,
Before it is too late to harbour joy in one's heart,
We know that others did not, instead,
At the dawn of the story,
The prologue of all,
When the Iron Crown first fell,
You brought him to judgement, before the imperishable thrones.

The Valar wished to be pleased by the company of the Eldar,
Finest and fairest of the Children,
Masters of art, songs, verses and craft,
For you the Fair Elves sing,
Composing melodies of old,
To you they dedicate solemn prayers,
For the fate of the world to bode well,
For your guard to be upheld,
We shall meet them, one day,
When this current earth will have got so much changed and grey.

Navigation

[0] Themen-Index

[#] Nächste Seite

[*] Vorherige Sete