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N·alalmino lalantila
Ne·súme lasser pínea Ve sangar voro úmeai Oïkta rámavoite malinai. Ai lintulind(ov)a Lasselanta Piliningwe súyer nallar qanta Kuluvai ya karnevalinar V’ematte sinqi Eldamar. San rotser simpetalla pinqe, Súlimarya sildai, hiswa timpe San sirilla ter i·aldar: Lilta lie noldorinwa Ómalingwe lir’ amaldar Sinqitalla laiqaninwa. N·alalmino hyá lanta lasse Torwa pior má tarasse: Tukalla sangar úmeai Oïkta rámavoite karneambarai. Ai lindórea Lasselanta Nierme mintya náre qanta. |
From the elm-tree falling one by one
small leaves were in the wind, like throngs ever large of yellow birds on the wing. Oh! Fall with its many swallows, the airs are so full of golden feathers, and orange-red ones too, that they call to mind the gems of Elven-home. Then pipes playing their thin music, slender columns of pearl, a dim rain at that time flowing though the trees: the dancing Gnome-folk sang a gentle tune with many voices, sparkling green and blue. From the elm-tree here a leaf falls, the dark-brown fruit in the hand of the hawthorn: attracting large throngs of red-breasted birds on the wing. Oh! with singing at dawn Fall reminds me that it is filled with grief. |