Topic: To My Ephemeral Muse

Kyieri Valaire

Date: 2008-10-23 22:48 EST
A messy collection of notes and prose is bound together in a swirl of blue leather. Stained with ink, wrinkled with water, it does not present itself as a thing of beauty or of merit, though perhaps it was not created with the eyes of the world in mind. If not for the title, the front would be mistakable for the back.

The black in has chipped, but the elvish script is still legible.

<To My Ephemeral Muse>

Kyieri Valaire

Date: 2008-10-23 22:53 EST
A musical staff dominates several pages, letters indicating chord changes above. Notes and rhythms are messily scrawled between the lines. Beneath the melody, the lyrics are written, and, in context with the disorder of the page, the elegant, elvish script seems very much out of place.

Arwenamin naa i'dome

Arwenamin naa i'dome Ya telmaamin mi fuine Ya naa riene yassen elenrim Vee' tariamin en' huine

Arwenamin naa i'dome Ya linda a' amin domelina Lindel lisse' ar' senda Oomahe quanta i'dina

Arwenamin naa i'dome Ya lemba i'ndorie amaure Amin waana i' re avaenehe Ar' oio feitha an lome

Translation:

My lady is the night Who blankets me in shadow Who is crowned with stars As my queen of darkness

My lady is the night Who sings to me a lullaby A melody sweet and soothing Her voice fills the silence

My lady is the night Who flees the land at dawn I pass the day without her And ever wait for dusk