(this is a translation of a poem by Mithrandir.
You can find the original at http://www.stihi.ru/2004/11/02-1786)
Darkness crept towards Minas-Morgul,
And nine riders, to battle bound,
Galloped forth on an unknown errand,
As their nine black steeds shook the ground.
And like ghosts, unseen, they kept moving,
Silent shadows, akin to mist.
And in eyeless and hollow sockets
Fiery fires of evil hissed.
And the steel of their swords glistened
With a bitter and wicked cold,
And a heart-stopping shriek erupted
When the word of their Master they told:
“Run, dwellers of light: elves, humans.
In your burrows, you cowards, hide!
For death comes to all who oppose us.
Let the horde of the Dark Lord ride!”
And the warriors, all in black clad,
The blight that destruction brings,
Shall go forward to lead the armies
Of the evil Lord of the Rings.
The Nine...
© Copyright: Шуйский, 2004
Свидетельство о публикации №104110401732
Свидетельство о публикации №104110401732
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