The wind came down from the mountains to dale
and like her heart it cried.
For her missing love she longed,
O singing bird, O Nightingale!
She walked in the garden under the moonlight,
The holy place of the love so true.
A memory of the kiss goodbye.
O maiden pure of the Elvish might!
(This is only a part of the Arwen-part of the song. More is coming up soon!)