A poem about a night in Stirring, the Elvish season which is now being succeeded by spring proper. Translated from an original by the Swedish poet Vilhelm Ekelund.
Síve rembe morilínelíva
lingar ornion olbar nende.
Mí súlóra lóme Néniméva
lire milya, lamya, lutta
nalleo sardi-tussallon
lusse neno ehteléva.
Mí súlóra lóme Néniméva
nieli fanyarello.
*sú-lóra ‘sound-less, silent’
sardi-tussallon = sardillon ar tussallon
The first rain of Stirring
Like a net of black cobwebs
hang the wet branches of the trees.
In the silent February night
gently sings, sounds, floats
from the stones and thickets of the glen
the whispering of the water of a spring.
In the silent February night
soft weeping from the skies.