Barad-dur - Fortress of Sauron

The cry of wreched waiting orc
Doth fire this harsh lit hell
And in the dark no sound of lark
Is heard in smothered dell.

The seream of putrid haiting
Is echoed in the ground
And moan of pain is heard again
Beneth the uttered sound.

The feet of orcs arriving
Greets the lidless eye
And in etarnal torture
To live becomes to die

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