Pain. Pain, and anger, torment for my soul,
My heart strings raked in never-ending pain,
I’m cloven into two, I am not whole.
I pray that all my toil shan't be in vain!
Limbs wrung and twisted, broken, cut and stretched;
My body just as spirit feels inside.
In squalid filth how many times I’ve retched!
To Idril in the darkness how I've cried!

But for thee, my Idril, I’d do aught,
And then my torment Morgoth would relieve –
Thou understand why this dark fate I’ve sought:
That thou’lt be mine at last I still believe.

O Gondolin! The Golden-budded Flower!
Thou at last hath seen thy final hour.