A Lament for Elerossë

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

“When the Elves on High call Elerossë from Taniquetil,
His sweetest songs they shall find have fallen still:
Varda has lost one of her brightest stars this night,
Yavanna shall know why some of her flowers have spurned delight;
Manwë himself broods on his mighty, airy throne,
While Niënna weeps, sitting in the farthest West, all alone.

This Elf’s sister mourns the loss of fraternal love,
To resemble her heart the other stars darken above;
This Elf’s brother, so like him in appearance and form,
Conceals within his heart the bitterest storm
That wrenches like this foaming, gasping sea
And echoes this wind’s absolute cacophony.

Quiet in mood, calm as the dew collected within Varda’s wells,
Vala, we commend this elf, ere we submit him to this sea’s swells,

In Valinor, his mother shall look for the return of his constant smile:
Without suspicion, without disdain, without any presence of guile.
The sea shall carry him to those blessed shores again
Where he shall be free from doubt, torment, fate and pain.

In Valinor, his father shall look for the return of this beloved son
Who lived his life for others when all was said and done,
This wind shall carry him beyond this barren and cold air
To a place of light built for hearts which are fairest of the fair.”

Sonnet

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

The sky has so many stars that its face
E’en in the dark of night appears bright!
Each ribbony ray seems inclined to race
Toward earth, as though it requires the light.

It does not.

Man as aged long, to the time
He can’t see himself as part of the sky,
Of the dust, or anything sublime,
He has answered the “how?” (But failed the “why?”).

If he could, for a while, shun the glory,
The power, the wealth, the pride, the fame,
And but hear the stars’ lighted, bright story,
He shall be of Nature and need no name.

But the mind of man has evolved to think,
While his idle heart to nothingness does sink.

15th March.

You Are

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

You are the drop of rain
Upon my heart’s parched dry ground;
You are the one who took
My still heart and spun it
Around and round and round.

You are the sweet sunshine
When things look too, too grey;
You are the arrowed sign
That points out, when I’m lost,
The right turn on the way.

You are the smile I smile,
You are the tear I cry,
You were my hope in the past,
You will be the last breath
I inhale ‘fore I die.

You are the love I give,
You are part of my name,
You are to me my Pride,
My eyed Beauty, my Lust
And all I want of Fame.

You are now far, farther
Than any star ‘twould seem;
Yet you possess my thoughts
Awake I dream of you,
Asleep you are my dream.

4th July.