O sing of leaves, of fallen leaves
and countless leaves of red there lie.
O see the trees, the mighty trees
of green now swiftly fade and die.
Will life remain, will all be lost?
Nothing certain I can say,
The light is past, the flame is gone,
ill-fated is now our day.
O feel the wind, the icy wind
like birds the fallen leaves fly by -
When will the snow, the clean cold snow
come from the North, fall from the sky?
O may it cover all red leaves
and mercifully silence our cry!
See the Sindarin version
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