The Lord of the Rings, p. 508, Text by JRR Tolkien, translated by Boris Shapiro, Quenya
Massë sí rocco ar roquen?
Massë ná romba i súyanë?
Massë ná cassa ar varmë, ar findessë calima sirala?
Massë ná tuilë ar cermië ar yávë halla loala?
Avániër vë mistë orossë, vë súlimë lairenna;
Auri nuntar mí Andúnë ambor pella fuinenna.
Man hostuva usquë wilwa turuo hessa uryala,
Var cenuva yéni sirala et Ëarello entula?
Where now the horse and the rider?
Where is the horn that was blowing?
Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?
Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?
Where is the spring and the harvest and tall corn growing?
They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;
The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.
Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning,
Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?