Poem by Sappho, translated by Thorsten Renk, Quenya and Sindarin

Thia sui balan enni
i venn hen, i châr ú-balan
o chen ar lathra,
lathradad i lam velui

ar 'ladhol asson
rista guren,
no tirin na gen,
ú-belin pedi,

lammen nuithannen,
nu flâd nín naur
firiel, ú-genir hin nín,
lathron 'lam erui

cael orthor nin, na baw
girin, nimmidon sui thâr,
mathon im prestannen
di-nguruthos si.

*

Cenna nin tan ve Vala,
i nér i harë tye
hára ar lasta, lissë ómarya
nurrula hlarië

ar lalala éron ráca
órenya endassë.
Nai tirin lintavë cenna,
lá pólan quetë,

lambenya nuhtaina, undu helmanya
fírala nárë untúpina,
hendunyat úmar tirë, hlarienya
nuhtaina lámanen

ar quámë mápa nye, lívenen
inyë rihtaina, néca lá salquë
ni carna, nan harë qualmë,
an nati sinë.

*

Like the very gods in my sight is he who
sits where he can look in your eyes, who listens
close to you, to hear the soft voice, its sweetness
murmur in love and

laughter, all for him. But it breaks my spirit;
underneath my breast all the heart is shaken.
Let me only glance where you are, the voice dies,
I can say nothing,

but my lips are stricken to silence, under-
neath my skin the tenuous flame suffuses;
nothing shows in front of my eyes, my ears are
muted in thunder.

And the sweat breaks running upon me, fever
shakes my body, paler I turn than grass is;
I can feel that I have been chnged, I feel that
death has come near me.