The cold, oh! The cold, it bites
All around me and in my young heart
Chill me, burn me, break me, take me
The sorrow runs deep as the frosty waves below, pounding and harsh.

Alone, so cold and alone. 
Bitter winds sweep around my thin skirt, I am a glacial stone
Yet, in the apathies of this curse, I sense one thing
The rough yet warm cloth wraps around me

Rat-tat-tat goes the sound of feet

dancing to the drums of her own beat

Lah-oh-lah goes the warbling song

of a Goose who's name is Swan

Tra-la, oh-lay!

Now a song shall play!

Oh-lah, ho-hay!

Here she comes, now pray!

No fair white maiden is she, oh no, no!

Fury and fire in her brown eyes, glow

You'd better watch out, all you Noldor fair

Or precious things she'll snatch from your hair!

Tra-la, oh-lay!

Do the stars still dance on the foam capped waves?

On glittering shores, do children yet misbehave?

Throwing sand and jewel into the air with joy?

The western wind does not a word say,

Of the Falmari, of Alqualondë.

The shore is cold here, the stars are dim.

Here the weariness of elven spirits worn thin,

Coaxes many to fly to ships and sail to the West.

Slowly dwindling, the number who so depart,

Hope to find peace for a sorrowed heart.

The night air bit my skin. Winds caressed me, blowing my blonde hair in my face. The stars sparkled like Noldorin jewels as I darted through the field. I had snuck out. I had waited for my parents to fall asleep, then I slipped from the house, and from town, to explore. Ah, yes, the wind ruffled my nightgown. I pulled it up, my bare ankles getting stained by the tall grasses. I ran, laughter filling the meadows as I tasted freedom.