Lyrics Анарион - Моргэн

||: Hm A Em: || 6

Hm A Em
Silence by the ancient lake during the day
Hm A Em
Only grass and fox tracks.
Hm A Em
But in the twilight the darkness looks strange,
Hm A Em
And the harp is ringing by the water.
Hm A Em
By the ancient lake, heather and moss,
Hm A Em
Ore shines on the stones.
Hm A Em
And those who are believed to have sailed long ago
Hm A Em
They come here in the evening.

D Am
Kind people, believe me
D Am
I'm not lying to you -
D Am
Woe to the one who comes
D Am
On the lake at night.
D Am
This is how the fire disappears in the snow
D Am
So the wind carries away dirt -
D Am
Woe to the incoming evening
D Em Hm A Em Hm A Em
Into the shadow of the mountains ...

And among the friends who have heard about
The place of the owners of the ruined walls
There was a man, I did not know him,
With the name Morgan.
He did not laugh at the words of the old man,
But as if I didn't believe in the story
He drank and looked into the play of fire
And something flickered at the bottom of his eyes.

Kind people, believe me
I'm not lying to you -
Woe to the one who comes
On the lake at night.
This is how the fire disappears in the snow
So the wind carries away dirt -
So you will disappear too
Oh Morgan ...

And there will be no one to tell about
How the road disappeared, leaving the trail,
How silence is silent - that is, then no,
As the trail dried up, turning into an unclear trail.
How intoxicates wild rosemary with sweet wine,
And the silent thunder deafens
Great destinies and pure legends
In the sky blue-silver

Kind people, believe me
I'm not lying to you -
Woe to the one who comes
On the lake at night.
Woe, and if the night grass
Will touch his knees
You won't come home
Oh Morgan ...

Can you hear the echo in the mountains
Seven times upset swarm,
And the phantom myth embroider a pipe
Through the air with a thin needle.
Blue lights blazed in the water
My chest was cutting, there was no strength,
One of the visitors bent over him
And it is true, he asked something.

Kind people, believe me
I'm not lying to you -
Woe to the one who hears
The rustle of the cloak.
Woe to the one who meets the eye
Lord of broken walls
You won't come home
Oh Morgan ...

Nor mortal lips to touch the water
Sacred sources of years,
Not for mortals to hear the singing of stones,
There is no death, no past.
Look, O Morgan, at the smoke and houses,
You will leave them, forgetting about everything,
What I saw and knew before I left
Lost in the Golden Forest.

Kind people, believe me
I'm not lying to you -
Woe to all who come
On the lake at night.
Maidens of the Brook or Warriors of the Heather
They are taken prisoner
You are not the last of them
Oh, Morgan.
Oh, you're not the last one
Oh Morgan ...