Galadriel’s Song of Eldamar
I became a fan of J.R.R. Tolkien’s work when I was at the dawn of puberty. There were no movies based on his work then, and what little that was available was limited to The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings trilogy. I’ve since read several other of his books, put together by his son, Christopher, posthumously, and in the intervening years, I’ve grown even more fond of Tolkien and the great body of literature he created. But what I think that many fans of Tolkien’s work overlook is the vast library of poetry he wrote, which (to me) is some of his absolute best work. I’ve read several pieces over the years. At one point, I even possessed several books containing the poems and short stories, although right now I have no idea where those might be located since much of my former library is still packed away in boxes and such, awaiting a proper place in this house.
What follows is just one of my favorite Tolkien poems, Galadriel’s Song of Eldamar, which is both sad and beautiful and speaks of her great longing for Valimar, even after she chose to stay in Middle Earth. I feel a kinship for Galadriel… I know such longing as this…
I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew:
Of wind I sang, a wind there came and in the branches blew.
Beyond the Sun, beyond the Moon, the foam was on the Sea,
And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree.
Beneath the stars of Ever-eve in Eldamar it shone,
In Eldamar beside the walls of Elven Tirion.
There long the golden leaves have grown upon the branching years,
While here beyond the Sundering Seas now fall the Elven-tears.
O Lórien! The Winter comes, the bare and leafless Day;
The leaves are falling in the stream, the River flows away.
O Lórien! Too long I have dwelt upon this Hither Shore
And in a fading crown have twined the golden elanor.
But if of ships I now should sing, what ship would come to me,
What ship would bear me ever back across so wide a Sea?Ai! laurië lantar lassi súrinen,
Yéni únótimë ve rámar aldaron!
Yéni ve lintë yuldar avánier
mi oromardi lisse-miruvóreva
Andúnë pella, Vardo tellumar
nu luini yassen tintilar i eleni
ómaryo airetári-lírinen.Sí man i yulma nin enquantuva?
An sí Tintallë Varda Oiolossëo
ve fanyar máryat Elentári ortanë
ar ilyë tier undulávë lumbulë;
ar sindanóriello caita mornië
i falmalinnar imbë met, ar hísië
untúpa Calaciryo míri oialë.
Sí vanwa ná, Rómello vanwa, Valimar!Namárië! Nai hiruvalyë Valimar.
Nail elyë hiryva. Namárië!Ah! like gold fall the leaves in the wind,
long years numberless as the wings of trees!
The long years have passed like swift draughts
of the sweet mead in lofty halls beyond the West,
beneath the blue vaults of Varda wherein the stars
tremble in the song of her voice, holy and queenly.
Who now shall refill the cup for me?
For now the Kindler, Varda, the Queen of the Stars,
from Mount Everwhite has uplifted her hands like clouds,
and all paths are drowned deep in shadow;
and out of a grey country darkness lies
on the foaming waves between us, and mist
covers the jewels of Calacirya for ever.
Now lost, lost to those from the East is Valimar!
Farewell! Maybe thou shalt find Valimar.
Maybe even thou shalt find it. Farewell!
