Sirion
We have taken our dead
to the sea;
we have tendered them.
We have thrown lilies
in the pools,
on the white rock
and the red rock.
The sand is barred
with clouds;
the clouds are long;
our hands are spent.
We have taken our dead
to the sea,
and our living;
beyond the churned mud
of the estuary
the waves are swift spear-points.
We have taken our dead
to the sea,
and we go
many miles
to find water.