The Rotting Horse On The Deadly Ground
Summoning
The Rotting Horse On The Deadly Ground
Wars of great kings and clash of armouries
Whose swords no man could tell
Whose spears were numerous as wheat fields ears
Rolled over all the great lands and seas
Were loud with navies, devouring fires
Behind the armies burned both fields and towns
And sacked and crumbled to flaming pyres
Were cities made, where treasuries and crowns
Kings and their folk, their wives and tender maids
Were all consumed, now silent are those courts
Ruined the towers, whose old shape slowly fades
And no feet pass beneath their broken ports
I need no call of clamant bell that rings
Iron tongued in the towers
In the towers of earthly kings
Take a ride on, ride on
On your rotting horse
On that deadly ground
Take a ride on, ride on
On your rotting horse
With a pounding sound
Take a ride on, ride on
On your rotting horse
On that deadly ground
Take a ride on, ride on
On your rotting horse
Take a ride on, ride on
On your rotting horse
On that deadly ground
Take a ride on, ride on
On your rotting horse
With a pounding sound
Take a ride on, ride on
On your rotting horse
On that deadly ground
Take a ride on, ride on
On your rotting horse
Wars of great kings and clash of armouries
Whose swords no man could tell
Whose spears were numerous as wheat fields ears
Rolled over all the great lands and seas
Were loud with navies, devouring fires
Behind the armies burned both fields and towns
And sacked and crumbled to flaming pyres
Were cities made, where treasuries and crowns
Kings and their folk, their wives and tender maids
Were all consumed, now silent are those courts
Ruined the towers, whose old shape slowly fades
And no feet pass beneath their broken ports
I need no call of clamant bell that rings
Iron tongued in the towers
In the towers of earthly kings
Take a ride on, ride on
On your rotting horse
On that deadly ground
Take a ride on, ride on
On your rotting horse
With a pounding sound
Take a ride on, ride on
On your rotting horse
On that deadly ground
Take a ride on, ride on
On your rotting horse
Here on stones and trees, here there lies a spell
Of an unforgotten loss, of memories more blest
Than mortal wealth
Here dwells, here undefeated dwells
The fog immortal under withered elmes
Alalminórë once in the realms
O Cavalo Podre No Solo Mortal
Guerras de grandes reis e ruídos de armaduras
Cujas espadas nenhum homem poderia dizer, cujas lanças
Foram numerosas como as espigas do trigal
Reviraram todas as grandes terras, e mares
Lançaram-se altos com os navios, suas chamas devoradoras
Por trás dos exércitos queimaram ambos os campos e cidades
E saquearam e desmoronaram ou a piras flamejantes
Foram cidades feitas, onde tesouros e coroas
Reis e seus povos, suas esposas e belas virgens
Foram todos consumidos. Agora silenciosas estão aquelas cortes,
Arruinadas estão as torres, cujas velhas formas vagarosamente se vão
E pés alguns passam através de seus portões
Não preciso do clamante sinal do sino que badala
Badaladas estridentes nas torres de reis fantasmagóricos
Monte, monte
No seu cavalo podre
Naquele solo mortal
Monte, monte
No seu cavalo podre
Com um som pesado
Aqui nas pedras e árvores onde há um feitiço
De perda inesquecível, de memórias mais abençoadas
Do que riqueza mortal,
Aqui intacta reside a imortal neblina
Sob elmos enferrujados
Alalminore um em reinos antigos.
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