Khazad-Dum
Summoning
Khazad-Dum
From ashes and fire be broken
A light from the shadows shall spring
Renewed shall be blade that was broken
The crownless shall again be king
The world is grey, the mountains old
The forge's fire is ashen and cold
No harp is wrung, no hammer falls
The darkness dwells in Durin's halls
The shadow lies upon his tomb
But still the sunken stars appear
In the dark and windless mirrormere
There lies his crown in waterdeep
'Til Durin wakes again from sleep
A deadly sword, a healing hand
A trumpet voice, a burning hand
A lord of wisdom
Fire and shadow, both defied
In Khazad-dûm his wisdom died
In joy thou hast lived
In joy thou hast lived
If thou hearest the cry
Of the gull on the shore
Thy soul shall then rest
In the forest no more
Fire and shadow both defied
In Khazad-dûm his wisdom died
In joy thou hast lived
In joy thou hast lived
If thou hearest the cry
Of the gull on the shore
Thy soul shall then rest
In the forest no more
From ashes and fire be broken
A light from the shadows shall spring
Renewed shall be blade that was broken
The crownless shall again be king
The world is grey, the mountains old
The forge's fire is ashes cold
No harp is wrung, no hammer falls
The darkness dwells in Durin's halls
The shadow lies upon his tomb
But still the sunken stars appear
In the dark and windless mirrormere
There lies his crown in waterdeep
'Til Durin wakes again from sleep
A deadly sword, a healing hand
A trumpet voice, a burning hand
A lord of wisdom
Fire and shadow, both defied
In Khazad-dûm his wisdom died
In joy thou hast lived
In joy thou hast lived
If thou hearest the cry
Of the gull on the shore
Thy soul shall then rest
In the forest no more
Fire and shadow both defied
In Khazad-dûm his wisdom died
In joy thou hast lived
In joy thou hast lived
If thou hearest the cry
Of the gull on the shore
Thy soul shall then rest
In the forest no more
Das cinzas um fogo há de vir
Uma luz das sombras surgirá
Renovada será a lâmina que estava quebrada
O descoroado será novamente rei
O mundo é cinzento, as montanhas velhas
O fogo da forja está pálido e frio
Nenhuma harpa torcida, nenhum martelo cai
A escuridão habita os salões de Durin
A sombra reside sobre seu túmulo
Mas as estrelas submersas ainda aparecem
Nas trevas sem ventos de Mirrormere
Lá está sua coroa em águas profundas
Até que Durin desperte novamente
Uma espada mortal, uma mão curadoura
Uma voz de trombeta, uma mão em chamas
Um senhor de sabedoria
Morto
Fogo e sombra, ambos desafiados
Em Khazad-dum sua sabedoria morta
Em alegria tu tens vivido
Em alegria tu tens vivido
Se tu ouvistes o lamento
Da gaivota sobre a costa
Tua alma não mais
Na floresta descansará
Afinador online
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