Lyrics Элхэ Ниэннах - Гортхауэр, встань
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Семь долгих лет тянулась та война,
И над землей вставал закат кровавый.
Жизнь за свободу - это не цена,
Но Враг изначально быть не может правым.
А выживших кто-то должен спасти,
Их будут девять хранить в пути,
И никто не посмеет назгулов остановить
Так восемь - уйдут из боя,
Но один - остается с тобою,
Чтоб в последний миг от удара тебя закрыть ...
Был честным бой - с тремя ты сражался один,
Такие, как ты, спасенья от смерти не ищут,
И в крови своей захлебнешься ты, Властелин,
За то, что людей не делил на Высших и Низших,
Что тебе нужно было
На склонах Ородруина?
Или ты сам хотел уничтожить кольцо?
Скажи, королевич Исилдур,
Кто справится с древней силой?
Кто из вас посмеет взглянуть Саурону в лицо?
И черным ветром душа рванется за грань,
Над израненным телом черные хлопья вьются,
Только голос знакомый до боли: - Гортхауэр, встань...
Там остались ученики твои... Ученик мой, ты должен вернуться...
Майяр - по смерти в Валинор,
Только сумеет тебя вернуть
Проклятый - благословенной Арды Хранитель...
Девять - у ложа стражи,
И возвращенье страшно...
Молишь в бреду, задыхаясь: - Прости, Учитель ...
Ты вернешься сквозь боль от незаживающих ран,
Как клинок неподогнанный в ножнах душа и тело...
Только снова звучит в тебе: - Гортхауэр, встань...
А мир как мечом рассечен на Черных и Белых,
И на мертвую землю обрушится черный дождь,
И возникнет, скалясь, проклятый Белый город,
Потому что слабеет от ран Крылатая Ночь,
Потому что - не предупредить, ведь Враг - это ложь!
Потому что мир на Черных и Белых расколот!
Но через столетья боли
Ты снова вернешься в Мордор,
Проклиная себя что раньше вернуться не мог,
И станешь щитом тем землям,
Что ненавистны Верным,
Чтобы снова отдать себя за Юг и Восток.
For seven long years the war dragged on,
And the bloody sunset rose above the ground.
Life for freedom is not a price,
But the enemy can not be right from the beginning.
And someone must save the survivors,
They will be stored nine on the road,
And no one will dare to stop the Nazgols stopping
So eight - will leave the battle,
But one - remains with you,
So that at the last moment you can close the blow ...
There was an honest fight - with three you fought alone,
People like you do not seek salvation from death,
And in your blood you will choke, Lord,
For what people did not divide into the Higher and the Lower,
What did you need?
On the slopes of Orodruin?
Or did you want to destroy the ring yourself?
Tell me, King Isildur,
Who will cope with the ancient power?
Which of you dare look at Sauron in person?
And with a black wind, the soul rushes beyond the bounds,
Over a wounded body, black flakes are twisted,
Only a voice familiar to the pain: - Gorthauer, get up ...
There remain your disciples ... My pupil, you must return ...
Mayar - after his death in Valinor,
Only will you be able to return
Accursed - blessed Arda the Guardian ...
Nine - at the guard box,
And the return is terrible ...
Praying deliriously, gasping: - Forgive me, Teacher ...
You will return through the pain of non-healing wounds,
Like a sword unbroken in the sheath of the soul and body ...
Only again it sounds in you: - Gorthauer, get up ...
And the world as a sword is divided into the Blacks and Whites,
And a black rain will fall upon the dead land,
And the accursed White City will arise, screaming,
Because the Winged Night is waning from wounds,
Because - not to warn, because the Enemy is a lie!
Because the world is split on the Black and White!
But through the centuries of pain
You will return to Mordor again,
Cursing himself that he could not come back earlier,
And you will become a shield to those lands,
What are hated by the Faithful,
To again give yourself for the South and East.
And the bloody sunset rose above the ground.
Life for freedom is not a price,
But the enemy can not be right from the beginning.
And someone must save the survivors,
They will be stored nine on the road,
And no one will dare to stop the Nazgols stopping
So eight - will leave the battle,
But one - remains with you,
So that at the last moment you can close the blow ...
There was an honest fight - with three you fought alone,
People like you do not seek salvation from death,
And in your blood you will choke, Lord,
For what people did not divide into the Higher and the Lower,
What did you need?
On the slopes of Orodruin?
Or did you want to destroy the ring yourself?
Tell me, King Isildur,
Who will cope with the ancient power?
Which of you dare look at Sauron in person?
And with a black wind, the soul rushes beyond the bounds,
Over a wounded body, black flakes are twisted,
Only a voice familiar to the pain: - Gorthauer, get up ...
There remain your disciples ... My pupil, you must return ...
Mayar - after his death in Valinor,
Only will you be able to return
Accursed - blessed Arda the Guardian ...
Nine - at the guard box,
And the return is terrible ...
Praying deliriously, gasping: - Forgive me, Teacher ...
You will return through the pain of non-healing wounds,
Like a sword unbroken in the sheath of the soul and body ...
Only again it sounds in you: - Gorthauer, get up ...
And the world as a sword is divided into the Blacks and Whites,
And a black rain will fall upon the dead land,
And the accursed White City will arise, screaming,
Because the Winged Night is waning from wounds,
Because - not to warn, because the Enemy is a lie!
Because the world is split on the Black and White!
But through the centuries of pain
You will return to Mordor again,
Cursing himself that he could not come back earlier,
And you will become a shield to those lands,
What are hated by the Faithful,
To again give yourself for the South and East.