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Love Forever

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Mahiraj Jadeja

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“Through Rohan over fen and field where the long grass grows The West Wind goes walking, and about the walls it goes. What news from the West, oh wandering wind, do you bring to me tonight? Have you seen Boromir the Tall by moon or by starlight? ‘I saw him ride over seven streams, over waters wide and grey; I saw him walk in empty lands, until he passed away Into the shadows of the North. I saw him then no more. The North Wind may have heard the horn of the son of Denethor.’ Oh, Boromir! From the high walls westward I looked afar. But you came not from the empty lands where no men are. From the mouth of the sea the South Wind flies, From the sand hills and the stones; The wailing of the gulls it bears, and at the gate it moans What news from the South, oh sighing wind, do you bring to me at eve? Where now is Boromir the Fair? He tarries and I grieve. ‘Ask me not where he doth dwell--so many bones there lie On the white shores and on the black shores under the stormy sky; So many have passed down Anduin to find the flowing sea. Ask of the North Wind news of them the North Wind sends to me!’ Oh Boromir! Beyond the gate the Seaward road runs South, But you came not with the wailing gulls from the grey seas mouth. From the Gate of Kings the North Wind rides, And past the roaring falls And loud and cold about the Tower its loud horn calls. What news from the North, oh mighty wind, do you bring to me today? What news of Boromir the Bold? For he is long away. ‘Beneath Amon Hen I heard his cry. There many foes he fought His cloven shield, his broken sword, they to the water brought. His head so proud, his face so fair, his limbs they laid to rest; And Rauros, Golden Rauros Falls, bore him upon its breast.’ Oh Boromir! The Tower of Guard shall ever northward gaze To Rauros, Golden Rauros Falls until the end of days.”

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Author:J.R.R. Tolkien
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“Αυτά γιά τ'όργωμα της γης καί γιά τήν επιμέλεια Των ζωντανών εγώ έψαλλα, καί γιά τά δέντρα ακόμα, Όταν ο μέγας Καίσαρας τινάζει του πολέμου Τ'αστροπελέκι στό βαθύν Ευφράτη και χαρίζει Νόμους στούς πρόθυμους λαούς νικώντας, και το δρόμο Αρχίζει πρός τόν Όλυμπο. Καί τόν καιρόν εκείνον Εμένα τό Βεργίλιο, που εμέστωνα στές τέχνες Άδοξης σκόλης η γλυκειά μ'εθρεφε Παρθενόπη, Εμέ που παιγνιδίζοντας των πιστικών τραγούδια Είχα τονίσει μία φορά καί τολμηρό κοπέλλι, Τίτυρε, κάτου απ'της οξιάς τή στέγη εσέ είχα ψάλει.”

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Book:The Georgics
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