Ulmo’s Voice

Arise from sleep, although the night is meek
And calm the breath of Earth below the stars
Into the space where thoughts and visions speak
Where desire smoulders and disquiet jars

You Turgon, whom the Elves have called the Wise
Oh, hear the secret voice and heed its call
A superb city on a hill will rise
In mourning and destruction
It will fall

O Finrod, in the caves
Beneath the hills
The form of your desire
Will grow alive
To feed the triumph
Of the flamе that kills
And no shadow
Of glory shall survive

The subtle spеctre of distress draws near
Awakening the siege of obscure fear