Edain 4.7.2 veröffentlicht! / Edain 4.7.2 released!
Hail to thee, Victress of Evil,Demiurge of Light when hours passed primaeval,Aye, thou art wont to relieve us from sin,For all of thy names immense beatitude mean.
In case the hard-working Hobbit began to feel toil,Prostrated by labour and the many needs of soil,In the warmth of the tavern shall he ever find joy,By firing up some nights with merry tales that seldom annoy.
Indeed, the gravest toll was to be paid,The Dark Lord was not content, while feeble hopes were soon to fade,He craved hold of the ancient bridge, plotting onslaught and even more,So sent the frail steward his dearest towards sacrifice and gore.
A cold damsel of this chilled land,In truth, she harbours a flame and the flaring vigour of old, as past knights used to tend,Her heart has grown weary and much dismayed,Carrying the signs of grief and unjust death, for to her brethren farewell she bade.On the field of fierce clash will she avenge her kind,Freeing her soul from guilt and from shame her mind,Piercing the fell adversary with iron and ire,At the behest of the horse-realm and her golden sire.
Victress of Death, defying sorrow,Hailing fond the perished, inside Aman's ever-lit morrow,Thou givest love and endurance by which to live,Cherishing thy undying lamps, glaring radiant through the eve.
We shall go back to friendly green and blue,We shall behold dear home anew,That to which we bade adieu, to take the ways abreast,Forsaking behind peace, solace and happy fest.Aye, we shall part from ash and fire,Heading whither lies our merry Shire,Thence we won't ever take sad leave,Partaking in deeds which jesters sing and maidens weave.
Tongues stay and hush,Where trees are as rare as lush,Whenever one hears that fearsome name,A shadow grows unnoticed and becomes ill fame.An eastern spectre, looming ahead,Turning skies black and streams red,One ghost corroding wood and stone,Devouring and mauling all to the bone.
Long have we craved a new proud king,One we bow to and whom we fain sing,One who cares not about snide nasty murmur,One who may free us from chill, making weary hearts warmer.
Past the circles of heavens, past thy starred night,Findeth itself the hopeless realm of chaos, whither are cast demon and wight,Dominion of the enshrouding Void, outside the gates of Eä and matter,Of which very little bards sing and lyrics utter.
Walking freely under the moon,Along bush and lively tree,To be home enough soon,Knowing not fatigue or painful plea.To taste the real savour of life,So abides the gentle Hobbit glad,Avoiding despair and foreign strife,Which ever make one so mad.
Their efforts were all in vain,For nought could be done against the evil sovereign,Thus fell many on alien mortal soil,Away from bliss, chained by toil.The unlucky exiled were not to escape their cruel fate,At the mercy of a terrible curse, to undo which it seemed so late,A royal kin of legends and ever-lasting fame,Perennial as the boreal ices which earthly weather may not tame.
Deep blue, as appears to be the tale,Of two lone wizards, gone with the oriental breeze and doomed to fail,Departed silently towards the secret routes of the uncanny East,Vanished fast, as feeble morning mist.A story truly wreathed in riddle,They preferred exotic shires over known middle,None were told about their doings among so lesser a kind,Easy to bewilder with cheap tricks and to serfdom bind.
Fated to live,Brightening up those who grieve,Thus madest thou thy immortal light,Thenceforth bound to relieve one's burdened sight.So wheel thy oeuvres around,Spinning gently, not less sound,Eternal sign, if I be to earn trust,To become a prodigy, rejoicing at beacons that ever last.
So much for a peaceful land!Strangers come, sometimes,Calmness they love to offend,Fiends ought to leave betimes.Foreigners we seldom seek,Trouble-makers and kindred,Who greatly despise the meek,Demanding they be lodged and well-fed.
Too late, chill has since outgrown the sunny day,Now stained by wuthering gales barring the way,Thick, vicious ice which all seems to cage,As the enslaved beast, for it's the fell deed of a mage,Nasty sire of demon and ghost,Turning this frozen tide from ill to worst,He laid hand on a once fertile shire,Suddenly ending the crown that was prior,Winter advances, bitter and sour,Blight destroys fields, as rapid as hay succumbs to fire.
Autor
Thema: Antique Lyrics of Arda (Gelesen 175031 mal)
