26-03-2007, 23:17
Comme chantait Ónen, le poète Sinda :<p>I sing the progresse of a deathlesse soule,<br>Who Fate, which Eru made, but doth not controunle,<br>Placed in most shapes; all time before the law<br>Yoak'd us, and when, and since, in this I sing.<br>And great Arda to his aged evening;<br>From infant morne, through manly noone I saw.<br>What the gold Vanyar, or silver Noldor saw,<br>Telerin brasse, or Avari iron<br>A work t'outweare Aman lights, Sun and Mone <br>And (holy writt excepted) made to yeeld to none.<p>G., weaving to a thread <i>of beauty, joy for ever</i> <br>