Ah! like gold fall the leaves in the wind, long years numberless as the wings of trees! The long years have passed like swift draughts of the sweet mead in lofty halls beyond the West, beneath the blue vaults of Varda wherein the stars tremble in the voice of her song, holy and queenly. Who now shall refill the cup for me? For now the Kindler, Varda, the Queen of the Stars, from Mount Everwhite has uplifted her hands like clouds, and all paths are drowned deep in shadow; and out of a grey country darkness lies on the foaming waves between us, and mist covers the jewels of Calacirya [Light Cleft] for ever. Now lost, lost to those from the East is Valimar [the Home of the Angels]!
Farewell! Maybe thou shalt find Valimar. Maybe even thou shalt find it. Farewell! Farewell! Maybe thou shalt find it. Maybe even thou shalt find it. Farewell! Farwell! Maybe thou shalt find Valimar. Maybe even thou shalt find it. Farewell!