A LELYA SÍ
by Petri Tikka
Yé! sindea orta estel lairesse,
coranar sinta lá ve yéni Manweo!
Loar ve nesse cuili alálier
mi ampanor úvea-lingwilókeva
et Rómello, Tiliono indil
ara luine yasse lire ninde rusco
nengweryo maiacallo-lumbonen.
Ar mana estel emmen caruva?
Mal sí ente tinta Arda ulca ahanen
ve mordor cárerya Tilion mapea,
rimbe melissi ar melindor fírar sí
ar malinearello túla lóce
i nárelinnar undu te, ar ang' ea
firtien ilye esteli i suyear
Ma vanwa estel ná, ma nás aqua vanwa?
A lelya sí! Nai tuvuvalye estel!
Nai elye tuvuva! Ar a lelya!
Yes! like silver rises the hope in the summer,
a short year is not like the years of Manwe!
The years have laughed like young lives
of the very large sea-serpent in wooden halls young lives
out of the east, beside the blue flower of Tilion
where sings a slender fox
in the cloud of his nose, beautiful and noble.
And what shall hope do for US?
But now THEY kindle the Realm with evil rage
like shadows his head Tilion is taking,
many lovers are now dying
and out of a yellow sea a dragon is coming
on the fires beneath them, and iron exists
to kill all hopes that are breathing.
Is hope lost, is it wholy lost?
Travel now! Maybe you shall find hope!
Maybe even you shall find it! And go!