In a fit of translation fervor, I decided to take on my favorite Lord Alfred Tennyson poem into Sindarin. The translation notes will be in the last chapter. If you would like some Elvish in your fanfiction, go to my forums or my website.

Disclaimer: I didn’t write Alfred Tennyson’s poem, and I’m making no money off this translation.

First is the Sindarin; then is the literal translation into English; then is the original poem.

I Nî Salod – The Lady of Shalott

Part I

Sindarin:

Bo ath-gelon dorthar anann
rîdh aind in-gelais a thâr laeg,
Hammar daur, govedir venel;
A trî i rîdh i ven siria
Ani meraid laew Camelod;
Ar in gwaith ledhir an a dan,
Tírad had ninglyr i lodar
Os dol nu-di,
I dol Salod.

Tethair nimmidir, yrn girir,
Hwist dithin hwiniar a girir
Trî i ‘wing i siria an-uir
Nan dol min hîr
Siriad dadben a Chamelod.
Canad raim vith a beraid vith,
Orthirir i had-in-ninglyr,
Ar i dol dhínen den bauglar
I nî Salod.

Ani hîr, dathar-‘wathrannen,
I lynt lyng pennar aphannen
Na rych al-legyr; a pes-suil
I lunt lodant na rovail vraind
Lodad dad a Chamelod:
Dan man den tírant huilannad?
Egor den tírant nan chenneth?
Egor e palan-istannen,
I nî Salod?

Crithor ereb, crithad ned aur,
Mi faing thâr a mi ngelais bairch
Lasta ‘laer veren i nalla
Od i gelon etholed lend,
Dad ani meraid Camelod:
A nu-Ithil, i grithor lom
Gared go-thâr min emyn chaill,
Lastad, pêd thross “Ai! I elleth,
Hiril Salod.”

Literal English:

On either side of the river there dwells all along
Long fields of plants and fresh grass,
They clothe woods, they meet Heaven;
And through the fields the road flows
To the many towers of Camelot;
And the peoples go back and forth
Seeing a place of water-lilies that float
Around an island beneath them,
The island of Shalott.

Willows whiten, trees quiver,
Quiet breezes twirl and shiver
Through the spindrift that flows forever
By the island in the river
Flowing downwards to Camelot.
Four grey walls and grey towers,
Overlook the place of the water lilies.
And the silent isle oppresses
The lady of Shalott.

To the river, willow-veiled,
The heavy boat slants downwards followed
By non-fast horses; and without greeting
The boat floated with fine wings
Floating down to Camelot:
But who saw her giving a greeting?
Or saw her by the window?
Or is she known far and wide,
The lady of Shalott?

A lonely reaper, reaping in morning,
In the beards of grass and in the dried plants
Hears a cheerful song that calls out
From the river, coming out sweet,
Down to the towers of Camelot:
And under Moon, the weary reaper
Carrying bundles of grass in the high hills,
Listening, he speaks a whisper, “Oh! The Elf-maid,
Lady of Shalott.”

English by Lord Alfred Tennyson:

On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And through the field the road runs by
To many-towered Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Through the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four grey walls, and four grey towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott.

By the margin, willow-veiled,
Slide the heavy barges trailed
By slow horses; and unhailed
The shallop flitteth silken-sailed
Skimming down to Camelot:
But who hath seen her wave her hand?
Or at the casement seen her stand?
Or is she known in all the land,
The Lady of Shalott?

Only reapers, reaping early
In among the bearded barley,
Hear a song that echoes cheerly
From the river winding clearly,
Down to towered Camelot:
And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listening, whispers "'Tis the fairy
Lady of Shalott."