Av: Anna Hallpers
Bild: Susanna Dunér
stranger on the midnight shore,
what madness brings you here?
Did you not hear the tales of yore --
a shadow's wandering near.
When night falls on the desert land
a voice comes creeping forth,
a harp caressed by hollow hand
sings coldly in the North.
You are not moving, stranger pale,
why am I frightening you?
My ghostly silhouette is frail,
what could this weak man do?
I could enchant you with my song
and drown you in the sea!
But why? I would still walk along
the shores of memory.
I have been singing of revenge
for ages out of mind,
my ancient fire none can quench,
my hate no chain can bind.
But where are those that tortured me;
the gems of holy light?
Deep in the earth, deep in the sea,
and high above the night.
Yes, Maglor son of FŽanor
they called way back when
the Earth had not yet suffered for
the foolishness of Men.
My brothers? Oh, they're gone, they're gone!
The oath has slain them all!
I'm left beneath the scorching sun
to mourn the Eldar's fall.
My harp is made of broken glass
the strings are made of blood,
and when the silent west winds pass
it's singing like a god.
Bright stranger on the midnight shore,
this madness is my fate.
I am not praying anymore,
I know it is too late.