I Anda Malle
by Thomas Ferencz

Thomas Ferencz is from Hungary. His poem I Anda Malle was first posted on the Elfling mailing list in 2002.

I Anda Malle

Lauc auta Ambarello. pusta, telcu! Siar l yonta.
I asto hwinya or carinya, tuonyar rihtear pittav,
tr yyo hautar. Anar ruxa, ar wile yernav oronti pella.
Nwalca silmenen eleni ilwess rilyar helcav.
Ausa nimba vranyo yni y (randar quta?)
tintila wilyass imb aldar. Pahtan hendunya.
Ceni oira i metto lelyalo fra n. Lingas
telless indonya auress iny. hauta,
indonya, hauta! Lqua erin hequa selma.
Quetint, Eldar i eleni laitar. Iny rc
ytalentallo mettavalta, an selmanya talta
nu i ringa alavaxi enta. Quettar centanya
quetin ni hehtaner r i mina nca nalta
aisto lantan carinyanna. I centa aica
nyari Valain sa cuil n trina, ily
Eldar nar wanwa, Naucor firini caitar
nn nu ondor rmi lm lung,
an Moringottor untim ortir. Quta
vanima n sa lambanya n ntina
an r quetin i quettar i sundor Ambarwa
tancav ruxar nyenyala, ar Cma ilv tpa.

Ai! Ananta
I cirya larta enta hpass vahaiya, ya
ullume hiruvan. Var si nin sya.


The Long Road

Warmth has passed from the world. Stop, my legs! No more today.
The dust swirls above my head, my sinews shake a bit,
both rest then. The Sun crumbles, and floats tired beyond the mountains.
Stars icily glitter in the sky with their cruel light.
A sad vision of my self long years ago (or was it ages?)
trembles in the air among the trees. I shut my eyes.
It is enough to see the end of the journey all the time. It dangles
in the rear of my mind every day. Rest,
my mind, rest! Nothing remains but resolve.
They say, the Elves praise the stars. I myself dread
their endless glare, for my will collapses
under that cold perfection. The words, my message
to utter have abandoned me when the first faint glitter
of fear fell on my head. The dire message,
to tell the Valar that life is defeated, all
the Elves are gone, the Dwarves lie dead
deep under rocks too heavy to heave,
and countless Morgoths have arisen. Perhaps
it is proper that my tongue is knotted
for when I say the words, the roots of the world
will surely crumble crying, and the Void covers all.

But alas! still
the ship waits there in that harbour far away, that
I will never find. Or so it seems.




ytal 'glare' from yta- 'look'. 

alavaxie  'perfection' lit. 'stainlessness' from vax 'stain'.


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