Through the dark and through the cold
Shines shadowed jewel and crafter of,
Whose spritely spirit sought unknowing
Blackest seeds and slowly growing
to the Curse of Fëanor

Through loss of love and work of hand
Speak skillful words of brighter lands,
Who seeks the sword, the Darkest Foe
Across the sea, above the boughs,
And for the Curse of Fëanor

Through shaken faith and fallen gods,
The purest of a hopeless cause
The Curse of Fëanor runs long,
Spoke those in oath unto The One,
Spoke those to fate when had begun
Venegeful desperate stride for light
Until the choir reach its height,
Until the end of blackest blight,
That day return to Valinor,
To end the Curse of Fëanor

Through the war, and through the oath
“Death shall bring thee home,” He spoke
To tread the stairs above the world
Past satisfied and backwards hurled
At last, the end of everything,
One day the courage of the King
Shall lift the Curse of Fëanor.