Untitled poem in Quenya

Glorsoron atar celndu
a varda vilya!
oranta ramamel le
himsul pella i earon dinalin
tuile edri galenramar
aidar lissilin ne silivren ered
anna anara
tintiliel telprin coire iore

(Golden eagle feather float down from on high
O exalted sky!
lift up winglove to thee
cool winds beyond the great sea sing silent
spring opens green wings
trees sing sweetly on shining mountains
gift of the sun
sparkles silverlike stirring the heart)

Wyld Hunt

we are the eyes shining bright
we are the howling in the night
we are the blood burning with desire
we dance leaping round the fire
we are the secret inside the hood
we are the laughter in the darkling wood
we are the rustling in the limbs
we are the noises on the wind
we are the shadows behind the stones
we are the feeling deep in your bones
we are the faces in the bark
we are the lights winding through the dark
we are the music you can’t resist
we are the proof that we exist
we are the cats playing their games
we are the owls calling your name
we spin madly to our drums
through the forest we now run
we are the teeth that never blunt
we are the Wyld Hunt.