Once upon a time in the happy land of Valinor
Orome's horn rang through the mountains.
And a strange fire burned in his chest,
And we shouted with one voice: "Lead!"
It beckoned us to the secret starry darkness,
And Aule's eyes did not hide his approval...
But Yngve the Wise said, " Why?"
And Mandos the Great added: "Not the time."
And we, having sighed to ourselves, as always,
Not Yngve, but Mandos was listened to then.
And Manwe sighed sternly from under his brows,
But he didn't say a word.
And the years passed. And again in Valinor
The horn of the Sindars sounded to us from across the sea.
And the bold Tiele, from Elve messenger,
He sang a song about great and glorious battles.
"Lead the way!"- and our blades flashed menacingly.
But he said, " it's too Late."
And the years passed. And in the night of Valinor
Tyrion was shaken by the bitter horn of feanor.
Some asked Yngve for advice;
"Not the time," was the Wise wise answer.
But we didn't want to be sorry again
About the choice that is forever behind.
Let it be what it will be! Victory and death -
All there, ahead! We shouted, " Lead!"
Better the unrighteousness of proud swords,
Than the sleepy dregs of endless nights!
The light of the torches, thousands of eyes are affected...
And Mandos hasn't arrived yet...
And years have passed, suns and moons dance;
We lived and waited, not knowing what.
Is the horn of the cry frozen in the sky?
The Fingolfin blood our fear paid for.
But we only looked, sighing, at the mountains
And they remembered feanor...
Again, the horn sounded.
And it became clear: if you chose the path,
Listened to the call of military attacks -
And then listen. It's worth living like this.
Good luck campaign did not bring - it does not matter!
But we must make a mistake-by our own fate -
For us and for those who died - to justify,
But a bold struggle, not a humble plea!
And maybe Yngve the Wise will understand us,
And he will sharpen his sword and go with us -
Sing songs and listen to their ardent intensity
And horns are a summoning signal.