N·alalmino lalantila
Ne·súme lasser pínea
Ve sangar voro úmeai
Oïkta rámavoite malinai.

Ai lintulind(ov)a Lasselanta
Piliningwe súyer nallar qanta
Kuluvai ya karnevalinar
V'ematte sinqi Eldamar.

San rotser simpetalla pinqe,
Súlimarya sildai, hiswa timpe
San sirilla ter i·aldar:
Lilta lie noldorinwa
Ómalingwe lir' amaldar
Sinqitalla laiqaninwa.

N·alalmino hyá lanta lasse
Torwa pior má tarasse:
Tukalla sangar úmeai
Oïkta rámavoite karneambarai.

Ai lindórea Lasselanta
Nierme mintya náre qanta.

From the elm-tree falling one by one
small leaves were in the wind,
like throngs ever large
of yellow birds on the wing.

Oh! Fall with its many swallows,
the airs are so full of golden feathers,
and orange-red ones too,
that they call to mind the gems of Elven-home.

Then pipes playing their thin music,
slender columns of pearl, a dim rain
at that time flowing though the trees:
the dancing Gnome-folk
sang a gentle tune with many voices,
sparkling green and blue.

From the elm-tree here a leaf falls,
the dark-brown fruit in the hand of the hawthorn:
attracting large throngs
of red-breasted birds on the wing.

Oh! with singing at dawn Fall
reminds me that it is filled with grief.