All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.
Превод:
Не всяко злато сияе,
не всеки скиталец е враг;
здрав старец не вехне до края,
не жари слана корен як.
Ще лумне пак пламък изгаснал,
над сянката-лъч засиял;
строшеният меч ще зарасне,
сваленият пак ще е крал.
