The Passage of the Marshes
I ngyrth sí ú-lostarÚ-chiriar îdhHiriar harch ring a nîdTano i ónerIo na ndagor velegNa dûr ben-galu, na naeth arvethedMín galad a chuil ban.Mín sarch a ngurth ban.
Howard Shore "The Passage of the Marshes" testo
The Passage of the Marshes
The dead do not sleep hereThey have found no restOnly a cold, dank graveTo mark what they gave,To a great battle – long ago;To a fruitless victory – to endless woe.One light for each life.One grave for every death.
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