J.R.R. Tolkien Şiirleri

Genç Eorl’un Ağıdı

Nerde küheylan, süvari, çalınan boru nerde?
Nerde zırh, nerde uçuşan sarı saçlar, miğferde,
Nerde o arp çalan el ki tutuşurdu tellerde
Bahar, hasat ve upuzun ekinler, perde perde…?
Dağlardan yağmur, çayırdan yeller gibi geçtiler,
Batı’da günler dağların gölgesine göçtüler…
Kim getirsin bu yangının külünü bir araya,
Ve gözlesin gün Deniz’de vuruyorken karaya…?

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Lament for Eorl the Young

Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?
Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?
Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?
Where is the spring and the harvest and the corn growing?
They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;
The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.
Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning,
Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?