Ollas Nin o hAuth

I Dreamed of War

I ûl osp cân annin vin ely nîn.
Cenin anin ‘Rûn, anin mâr e-Dawarwaith, i noss nîn.
Lith haer toba i lammen ned i thuion.
Echuiel faug, ethuion ar anin chenneth nîn nerin.
I gened nîn eno ‘annen vin ôl nîn.
I thî velig maethyr heregui — Edhellim, Adadhrim, Hadhodrim, ar Orchrim —
nallar ruthrol, i faer dîn lachol, ith roe dîn nerchennin.
He chíniel ned i lui laew, gwathron i chent nîn.
Ni law naug, Olodur, ni nestor.
Amman ónel i ôl hen annin?

The reek of smoke commands me in my dreams.
I look to the east, to the home of the Woodelves, my kin.
Bitter ash covers my tongue as I breathe.
Having awakened gasping, I arise and run to my window.
My vision is still caught in my dream.
Great rows of bloody warriors — Elves, men, dwarves and orcs —
Cry out in rage, their hearts burning, their flesh rent
Having seen this many times before, I veil my eyes.
I am no soldier, Dreammaster, I am a healer.
For what did you give me this vision?

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