Поеми, свързани с „Нарн и хин Хурин”

Winter comes to Nargothrond

The summer slowly in the sad forest
waned and faded. In the west arose
winds that wandered over warring seas.

Leaves were loosened from labouring boughs:
fallow-gold they fell, and the feet buried
of trees standing tall and naked,
rustling restlessly down roofless aisles,
shifting and drifting.

The shining vessel
of the sailing moon with slender mast,
with shrouds shapen of shimmering flame,
uprose ruddy on the rim of Evening
by the misty wharves on the margin of the world.

With winding horns winter hunted
in the weeping woods, wild and ruthless;
sleet came slashing, and slanting hail
from glowering heaven grey and sunless,
whistling whiplash whirled by tempest.

The floods were freed and fallow waters
sweeping seaward, swollen, angry,
filled with flotsam, foaming, turbid,
passed in tumult. The tempest died.

Frost descended from far mountains
steel-cold and still. Stony-glinting
icehung evening was opened wide,
a dome of crystal over deep silence,
over windless wastes and woods standing
as frozen phantoms under flickering stars.

With the seething sea Sirion’s waters,
green streams gliding into grey furrows,
murmurous mingle. There mews gather,
seabirds assemble in solemn council,
whitewinged hosts whining sadly
with countless voices in a country of sand:
plains and mountains of pale yellow
sifting softly in salt breezes,
sere and sunbleached. At the sea’s margin
a shingle lies, long and shining
with pebbles like pearl or pale marble:
when the foam of waves down the wind flieth
in spray they sparkle; splashed at evening
in the moon they glitter; moaning, grinding,
in the dark they tumble; drawing and rolling,
when strongbreasted storm the streams driveth
in a war of waters to the walls of land.

When the Lord of Ocean his loud trumpets
in the abyss bloweth to battle sounding,
longhaired legions on lathered horses
with backs like whales, bridles spuming,
charge there snorting, champing seaweed;
hurled with thunder of a hundred drums
they leap the bulwarks, burst the leaguer,
through the sandmountains sweeping madly
up the river roaring roll in fury.