"moria" poems
The world was young, the mountains green,
No stain yet on the Moon was seen,
No words were laid on stream or stone
When Durin woke and walked alone.
He named the nameless hills and dells;
He drank from yet untasted wells;
He stooped and looked in Mirrormere,
And saw a crown of stars appear,
As gems upon a silver thread,
Above the shadow of his head
The world was fair, the mountains tall,
In Elder Days before the fall.
Of mighty kings of Nargothrond
And Gondolin, who now beyond
The Western Seas have passed away;
The world was fair in Durin's Day.
A king he was on carven throne
In many-pillared halls of stone
With golden roof and silver floor,
And runes of power upon the door.
The light of sun and star and moon
In shining lamps of crystal hewn
Undimmed by cloud or shade of night
There shone for ever fair and bright.
There hammer on the anvil smote,
There chisel clove, and graver wrote,
There forged was blade, and bound was hilt;
The delver mined, the mason built,
There beryl, pearl, and opal pale,
And metal wrought like fishes' mail,
Buckler and corslet, axe and sword,
And shining spears were laid in hoard.
Unwearied then were Durin's folk;
Beneath the mountains music woke:
The harpers harped, the minstrels sang
And at the gates the trumpets rang.
The world is grey, the mountains old,
The forge's fire is ashen cold;
No harp is wrung, no hammer falls,
The darkness dwells in Durin's halls;
The shadow lies upon his tomb
In Moria, in Khazad-dûm.
But still the sunken stars appear
In dark and windless Mirrormere;
There lies his crown in water deep,
Till Durin wakes again from sleep.
4.6k
Spanish
Si la vida es amor, bendita sea!
Quiero más vida para amar! Hoy siento
Que no valen mil años de la idea
Lo que un minuto azul del sentimiento.
Mi corazon moria triste y lento…
Hoy abre en luz como una flor febea;
La vida brota como un mar violento
Donde la mano del amor golpea!
Hoy partio hacia la noche, triste, fría
Rotas las alas mi melancolía;
Como una vieja mancha de dolor
En la sombra lejana se deslíe…
Mi vida toda canta, besa, ríe!
Mi vida toda es una boca en flor!
English
If life were love, how blessed it would be!
I want more life so to love! Now I feel
A thousand years of ideas are not worth
One blue minute of sentiment.
My heart was dying slowly, sadly…
Now it opens like a Phoebean flower:
Life rushes forth like a turbulent sea
Whipped by the hand of love.
My sorrow flies into the night, sad, cold
With its broken wings;
Like an old scar that continues to ache–
In the distant shade it dissolves…
All my life sings, kisses, laughs!
All my life is a flowering mouth!
3k
I've got a big day,
A big day planned
But it wasn't planned by me,
Or written by my hand
First I get up at 6,
To get ready for the day
And then I drive myself to school
And go to Band to play.
Then school starts at 8,
The "long dark of Moria"
When I finally get a break after lunch
You'd think I'd sing hallelujah.
But the work really starts at 1,
When I help set up for the meet;
Knowledge Bowl competitions are
Meeting at my school this week.
Finally it'll start at 2,
And my brain will be drilled for answers;
At 5:30, when the meet is done,
I'd be happy enough to dance--or
There's something going on at 6,
That I almost forgot about--
Practice for our biggest show
Choir and band go all out.
At last, eyes closing at 9,
I'll get picked up, I think
Though I drove myself, I'm not sure
How my parents planned everything.
If I survive my day today,
Then I should be alright
Exhausted tomorrow, when I still have
Half of these assignments to cite.
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 9:19 AM UTC
Gandalf wasn't scared of any foe he and his team encountered,
except one - the Balrog.
Down, deep below the mountains, in dark caverns of Moria
he had to face his evil twin, his adversary.
Down, deep below, in darkness, he had to overcome his shadow.
This one time, the wise great sage felt true fear,
and had to fight the Balrog alone.
Nov 24, 2018
Nov 24, 2018 at 4:38 AM UTC