The moon is bright, surrounded
By the black velvet of the sky.
High swings Remmirath,
The netted stars.
Above the cool mist rises
The Borgil, glowing like fire.
Nearby stands Menelvagor,
The Swordsman of the Sky
With his shining belt.
And at the rim of the horizon
Stands the sickle,
Warning evil with doom.

The sun, she* shines brighter still
And I see closer to home
Nearer my eyes
The cold rivers flowing
Like white lace over a ladder of falls;
Elanor and niphredil blooming,
A thunder of gold, stars of green
And a rain of flowers glinting in the sun
Gleaming with fire.
Also a slow wind
With voice so cool and soft
Hovers about like mist.

And upon dark hair
How white the blossom lays
Flowing in the breeze
Shining on a summer's day.

* Elves refer to the sun as she

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