O Beren, sweetest to my heart!
Alas - to doom that we should part!
I find thee not, I hear no more
Thy fairest song of days of yore.
How may I Dairon look upon?
For he betrayed me 'neath the throne
Of my proud father, he who set
His mind on jewels - how to get
Immortal, precious stones of old -
The Silmarils, with power they hold.
But I care not for all these things.
No more with nightingales I sing:
I am locked up and watched by guards.
My only comfort - nightly stars;
Of sorrows mine I speak to skies,
And into dark drown my soft cries...
04.07.2003
(kRu)
https://roshkakru-poems.livejournal.com/11161.html
Luthien - 2003
© Copyright: Рошкакру, 2004
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Свидетельство о публикации №104050300122
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