Ciclo de canciones
Música de Donald Swann
Poemas de J.R.R. Tolkien
"The
Road Goes Ever On"
“Upon the Hearth the Fire is Red”
“In the Willow-Meads of Tassarinan”
“In western lands”
“Namárië”
“I sit beside the fire”
“Errantry”
“Lúthien Tinúviel”
“Bilbo’s Last song”
"The
Road Goes Ever On"
The Road
goes ever on and on,
Down from
the door where it began.
No far
ahead the Road has gone,
And I must
follow, if I can,
Pursuing it
with weary feet,
Until it
joins some larger way,
where many
paths and errands meet.
And whither
then?
The Road
goes ever on and on
And whither
then?
I cannot
say.
"Upon
the Hearth the Fire is Red"
Upon the
hearth the fire is red,
Beneath the
roof there is a bed;
But not yet
weary are our feet,
Still round
the corner we may meet
A sudden
tree or standing stone
That none
have seen but we alone
Tree and
flower and leaf and grass,
Let them
pass! Let them pass!
Hill and
water under sky,
Pass them
by! Pass them by!
Still round
the corner there may wait
A new road
or a secret gate,
And though
we pass them by today
Tomorrow we
may come this way.
And take
the hidden paths that
towards the
Moon or to the Sun
Apple,
thorn, and nut and sloe,
Let them
go! Let them go!
Sand and
stone and pool and dell,
Fare you
well! Fare you well!
Home is
behind the world ahead,
And there
ar many paths to tread
Through
shadows to the edge of night,
Until the
stars are all alight,
Then world
behund and home ahead,
We'll
wander back to home and bed.
Mist and
twilight, cloud and shade,
Away shall
fade! Away shall fade!
Fire and
lamp, and meat and bread,
And then to
bed! And then to bed!
"In
the Willow-meads of Tasarinan"
In the
willow meads of Tasarinan, I walked in the Spring.
Ah! the
sight and the smell of the Spring in Nantasarion!
And I said
that was good.
I wandered
in Summer in the elm woods, of Ossiriand
Ah! the
light and the music in the Summer by the Seven Rivers of Ossir!
And I
thought that was best.
To the
beeches of Neldoreth I came in the Autumn
Ah! the
gold and the red and the sighing of leaves in the Autumn in Taur-na-neldor!
It was more
than my desire.
To the
pinetrees upon the highland of Dorthonion I climbed in the Winter.
Ah! the
wind and the whiteness and the black branches of Winter on Orod-na-Thôn!
My voice
went up and sang in the sky.
And now all
those lands lie under the wave,
And I walk
in Ambarona, in Tauremorna, in Aldalómë,
In my own
land, in the country of Fangorn,
Where the
roots are long,
and the
years lie thicker than the leaves
In
Tauremornalómë.
"In
Western Lands"
In western
lands beneath the Sun
the flowers
may rise in Spring,
the trees
may bud, the waters run,
the merry
finches sing.
Or there my
be 'tis cloudless night
and swaying
beeches bear
the Elven
stars jewels white
amid their
branching hair.
Though here
at journey's end I lie
in darkness
buried deep,
beyond al
towers strong and high,
beyond all
mountains steep,
above all
shadows rides the Sun
and Stars
for ever dwell:
I will not
say the Day is done,
nor bid the
Stars farewell.
I will not
say the Day is done,
nor bit the
Stars farewell.
I will not
say the Day is done,
nor bid the
Stars farewell.
"Namárië
(Farewell)"
Ai! Laurië
lantar lassi súrinen,
Yéni unótime ve rámar aldaron!
Yéni ve linte yuldar avánier
mi oromardi lisse-miruvóreva.
Andúne pella, Vardo tellumar
nu luini yassen tintilar i eleni
ómaryo airetári-lírinen.
Si man i yulma nin enquantuva?
An sí Titalle Varda Oiolossëo
ve fanyar máryat Elentári ortane
ar ilyë tier undiláve lumbulë;
ar sindanóriello caita mornië
i
falmalinnar imbe met, ar hísië
untúpa Calaciryo míri oiale.
Sí vanwa ná, Rómello vanwa, Valimar!
Namárië! Nai hi hiruvalyë Valimar.
Nai elyë
hiruva. Namárië!
"I
sit beside the Fire"
I sit
beside the fire
and think
of all that I have seen,
of meadow
flowers and butterflies
in summers
that have been;
Of yellow leaves
and gossamer
in autumns
that there were,
with
morning mist and silver sun
and wind
upon my hair.
I sit
beside the fire and think
of how the
world will be
when winter
comes without a spring
that I
shall ever see.
For still
there are so many things
that I
haver never seen:
in every
wood in every spring
there is a
different green.
I sit
beside the fire and think
of people
long ago,
and people
who will see a world
that I
shall never know.
But all the
while I sit and think
of times
there were before,
I listen
for returning feet
and voices
at the door.
Elbereth
Gilthoniel,
silivren
penna míriel
o menel
aglar elenath!
Na-chaered
palan-díriel
o
galadhremmin ennorath,
Fanuilos, le linnathon
nef aear, sí nef aearon!
Nef aearon!
I listen
for returning feet
and voices
at the door.
"Errantry"
There was a
merry passenger,
a
messenger, a mariner:
he built a
gilded gondola
to wander
in, and had in her
a load of
yellow oranges
and
porridge for his provender;
he perfumed
her with marjoram
and cardamom
and lavender.
He called
the winds of argosies
with
cargoes in to carry him
across the
rivers seventeen
that lay
between to tarry him.
He landed
all in loneliness
where
stonily the pebbles on
the running
river Derrilyn
go merrily
for ever on.
He
journeyed then through Meadowlands
to
Shadowlands that deary lay,
and under
hill and over hill
went roving
still a weary way.
He sat and
sang a melody,
his
errantry atarrying;
he begged a
pretty butterfly
that
fluttered by to marry him.
She scorned
him and she scoffed at him;
she laughed
at him unpitying;
so long he
studied wizardry
and
sigaldry and smithying.
He wove a
tissue airy-thin
to snare
her in; to follow her
he made him
beetle leather wing
and feather
wing of swallow hair.
He caught
her in bewilderment
with
filament of spider-thread;
He made her
soft pavilions
of lilies,
and a bridal bed
of flowers
and of thistle down
to nestle
down and rest her in;
and silken
webs of filmy white
and silver
light he dressed her in.
He threaded
gems in necklaces,
but
recklessly she squandered them
and fell to
butter quarreling;
then
sorrowing he wandered on,
and there
he left her withering,
as
shivering he fled away;
with windy
weather following
on
swallowing he sped away.
He passed
the archipelagoes
where
yellow grows the marigold,
where
countless silver fountains are,
and
mountains are of fairy gold.
He took to
war and foraying,
a harrying
beyond the sea,
and roaming
over Belmarie
and
Thellamie and Fantasie.
He made a
shield and morion
of coral
and of ivory,
a sword he
made of emerald,
and
terrible his rivalry
with elven
knights of Aerie
and Faerie,
with paladins
that golden
haired and shining eyed came
riding by
and challenged him.
Of crystal
was his habergeon,
his
scabbard of chalcedony;
with silver
tipped at plenilune
his spear
was hewn of ebony.
His
javelins were of malachite
and
stalactite - he brandished them,
and went
and fought the dragonflies
of
Paradise, and vanquished them.
He battled
with the Dumbledores,
the
Hummerhorns, and Honeybees,
and won the
Golden Honeycomb;
and running
home on sunny seas
in ship of
leaves
and
gossamer with blossom for a canopy,
he sat and
sang, and furbished up
and
burnished his panoply.
He tarried
for a little while
in little
isles that lonely lay,
and found
there naught but blowing grass;
and so at
last the only way he took,
and turned,
and coming home
with
honeycomb, to memory
his message
came, and errand too!
In
derring-do and glamoury
he had
forgot them, journeying
and
tourneying, a wanderer.
So now he
must depart again
and start
again his gondola,
forever
still a messenger
a
passenger, a tarrier
a-roving as
a feather does,
a
weather-driven mariner.
"Lúthien
Tinúviel"
Farewell
sweet earth and northern sky,
forever
blest, since here did lie
and here
with lissom limbs did run
beneath the
Moon, beneath the Sun
Lúthien
Tinúviel, Lúthien Tinúviel
more fair
than mortal tongue can tell.
Though all
to ruin fell the world
and were
dissolved and backward hurled
unmade into
the old abyss, yet were its making good,
for this
(the dusk, the dawn, the earth, the sea)
that
Lúthien for a time should be,
that
Lúthien for a time shoud be
"Bilbo's
Last song"
Day is
ended, dim my eyes,
but journey
long before me lies.
Farewell,
friends! I hear the call.
The ship's
beside the stony wall.
Foam is
white and waves are grey;
beyond the
sunset leads my way.
Foam is
salt, the wind is free;
I hear the
rising of the Sea.
Farewell,
friends! The sails are set,
the wind is
east, the moorings fret.
Shadows
long before me lie,
beneath the
ever-bending sky,
but islands
lie behind the Sun
that I
shall raise ere all is done;
lands there
are to west of West,
where night
is quiet and sleep is rest.
Guided by
the Lonely Star,
beyond the
utmost harbour-bar
I'll find
the havens fair and free,
and beaches
of the Starlit Sea.
Ship, my
ship! I seek the West,
and fields
and mountains ever blest.
Farewell to
Middle-Earth at last.
I see the
Star above your mast!
