The ghost (Finduilas)

Now autumn is coming - but not for Finduilas.
From the chilly winds I am covered by withered grass.

And a harpstring quivers and flutes of Sindar sing.
Long ago, impossibly long this battle has been!

I has loved a mortal whose fate was a sign of curse.
But my lips were bravely whispering: "Forever I'm yours!"

We were laughing when our paths met in forests wild,
I was happy- but when could a maiden survive in a fight?

To the kingdom unmarred I wanted to follow him,
But a guard-like shaft pinned me up to the hill.

Holds me firmly by spearing my chest, like a binding chain.
Never will it allow me to rise up and leave my grave.

I must feed with my heart' s all womanly caress and force
Not the sons of a king, but the roots of silvery herbs.

And the corn will be whispering bent under a windy blast,
Those tales which somebody in bore has thought up of us.

I am tired of lying - icy ground is squeezing my breast.
Minstrel, sing a song of summer, which came from the West!

Let your song destroy the spells, interwoven over me,
So that though in a dream I can be unchained and free!