None has ever caught him yet
«Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow,
Bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow.
None has ever caught him yet, for Tom, he is the Master:
His songs are stronger songs, and his feet are faster.»
~ J.R.R.…
tom bombadil
a fisherman’s boat found him far afloat
He began to think, lest he melt and sink,
what in the moon to do,
When a fisherman’s boat found him far afloat
to the amazement of the crew,
Caught in their net all shimmering wet
in a phosphorescent sheen
Of bluey whites and opal lights
and delicate liquid green.…
non avrete né l’Anello né me!
Dietro di loro, al bordo dell’acqua, vi erano Nove Cavalieri, e Frodo si sentì venir meno, vedendo la minaccia scritta sui loro volti scoperti. Niente avrebbe impedito loro di attraversare il Guado con la medesima facilità di lui, ed era inutile tentare di scappare per il lungo sentiero incerto che portava dal Guado ai margini di Gran Burrone, una volta che erano su questa sponda.…
he tripped unaware
He twinkled his feet, as he thought of the meat,
of pepper, and punch galore;
And he tripped unaware on his slanting stair,
and like a meteor,
A star in flight, ere Yule one night
flickering down he fell
From his laddery path to a foaming bath
in the windy Bay of Bel.…
He coveted song, and laughter long
He’d have seas of blues, and the living hues
of forest green and fen;
And he yearned for the mirth of the populous earth
and the sanguine blood of men.
He coveted song, and laughter long,
and viands hot, and wine,
Eating pearly cakes of light snowflakes
and drinking thin moonshine.…
in his heart he longed for Fire
At plenilune in his argent moon
in his heart he longed for Fire:
Not the limpid lights of wan selenites;
for red was his desire,
For crimson and rose and ember-glows,
for flame with burning tongue,
For the scarlet skies in a swift sunrise
when a stormy day is young.…
So was lonely too with nothing to do
He would dare any peril for ruby and beryl
to broider his pale attire,
For new diadems of lustrous gems,
emerald and sapphire.
So was lonely too with nothing to do
but stare at the world of gold
And heark to the hum that would distantly come
as gaily round it rolled.…
he was tired of his minaret
On a filigree stair of glimmering hair
then lightly down he went,
And merry was he at last to be free
on a mad adventure bent.
In diamonds white he had lost delight;
he was tired of his minaret
Of tall moonstone that towered alone
on a lunar mountain set.…
The Man in the Moon had silver shoon
The Man in the Moon had silver shoon,
and his beard was of silver thread;
With opals crowned and pearls all bound
about his girdlestead,
In his mantle grey he walked one day
across a shining floor,
And with crystal key in secrecy
he opened an ivory door.…
they all went back to bed!
The round Moon rolled behind the hill,
as the Sun raised up her head.
She hardly believed her fiery eyes;
For though it was day, to her surprise
they all went back to bed!
{J. R. R. Tolkien, The Adventures of Tom Bombadil, The Man in the Moon stayed up too late, The Man in the Moon Came Down Too Soon by JRR Tolkien on Karen’s Poetry Spot}
La Luna tonda rotolò dietro il colle,
Ed il Sole rizzò la bionda e la fiera testa,
Ma subito si disse: “Sogno o son desta?”.…