(The fathers of Men meet Finrod Felagund)
The night swooped down on dark wings of cold dread
with nightmares circling the flames - the faint light
can't chase away the memories and fright
that lurk in mind and in lands that we fled.
Towards the sunset our journey led,
but within us we still carried the night
and to the past we don't turn our sight,
but don't dare to hope for future ahead.
Suddenly nightmare turned to pleasant dream
of distant land with shores from pure white sand
as waves of song carry us like clear stream
and strings of harp are touched by gentle hand.
And when dawn blushes with the first sunbeam
with hope in heart facing the west we stand.