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Gandalf’s Reflection
por
J. R. R. Tolkien
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Chip the glasses, crack the plates! That's what Bilbo Baggins hates! That's what Bilbo Baggins hates So carefully, carefully with the plates! Blunt the knives and bend the forks! Smash the bottles, burn the corks! That's what Bilbo Baggins hates So carefully, carefully with the plates! Far o'er the Misty Mountains cold To dungeons deep and caverns old We must away ere break of day To seek the pale, enchanted gold The dwarves of yore made mighty spells While hammers fell likе ringing bells In places deep, wherе dark things sleep In hollow halls beneath the fells Goblets they carved there for themselves And harps of gold; where no man delves There lay they long, and many a song Was sung unheard by men or elves For ancient king and elvish lord There many a gleaming golden hoard They shaped and wrought, and light they caught To hide in gems on hilt of sword On silver necklaces they strung The flowering stars, on crowns they hung The dragon-fire, in twisted wire They meshed the light of moon and sun The pines were roaring on the height The winds were moaning in the night The fire was red, it flaming spread; The trees like torches blazed with light The bells were ringing in the dale And men they looked up with faces pale; The dragon’s ire more fierce than fire Laid low their towers and houses frail The mountain smoked beneath the moon; The dwarves they heard the tramp of doom They fled their hall to dying fall Beneath his feet, beneath the moon We must away ere break of day To win our harps of gold from him!
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