Beleriand, Beleriand,
enchanted and enchanting land,
though now you rest beneath the seas
your name lives on in memories:
in stories and in fairy-tales
that tell of singing nightingales,
of dancing in the starlit glades,
of flowers of a thousand shades:
of niphredil and elanor
and seregon and many more,
that grew beneath the starry skies
before the sun and moon did rise.

We all have heard the songs and tales
of mountains and of moss-clad dales,
of forests crossed by silver streams,
dark pools in which the moonlight gleams,
of mighty hidden cavern-halls,
of rainbow-misted waterfalls,
of lakes that glitter clear as glass
and summer-scented fields of grass,
of highlands where the pine-trees grow,
of towers shining white as snow,
of rocky cliffs where eagles nest
and seabirds crying in the west.

Of battles our bards have sung
that raged while still the world was young:
of armies marching cross the fields,
of sunlight mirrored in the shields
of elven-kings and dwarven lords
who fought against the evil hordes;
of war against the Enemy,
of treason and of loyalty;
of men whose hearts were brave and bold,
the heroes of the tales of old,
who struggled on though hope had fled;
of tears unnumbered that were shed.

Oh near-forgotten long-lost world,
your songs and stories we have heard:
of love that could not be denied,
though many times its strength was tried;
of valiance beyond belief,
of victory that turned to grief,
of love beyond the living world,
the greatest story ever heard.
Beleriand, Beleriand,
enchanted and enchanting land,
your tales are not forgotten yet,
and never will our hearts forget.