Durin’s empire

The world was young and mountains green.
Nameless were rivers and the spring.
When moon gave light to the first eve,
at that time Durin came to live.

For mines and hills he found new names,
he tasted water in mountains.
He saw himself in Mirror Lake
in all the fame, which he did take.

On stone throne its king was sitting,
golden harps were ever singing.
There people were walking on silver floor
and many mighty signs were on the door.

Once wedges clanged there and once anvils,
where pure gold decorated the walls.
The look at that was alluring
and for it the dwarves were working.

The world was young and mountains proud.
Before they fell hard to the ground,
worse time nobody had awaited.
But sky over their heads had clouded.

The world changed and mountains are older more.
Nobody will ever open the door.
Soon hushed the voices of hammers and harps,
now only darkness lives in the big halls.

Some stranger soldiers in Khazad-dúm killed
that one who gave life to Moria’s world.
There stone cry doesn’t stop anymore,
new Durin it is still waiting for.

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