Greetings they chant to snow and haze!
For fire won't crackle and hearth won't blaze,
They may just stay beyond this night
Far from home and out of sight.
From Dwarrowdelf, where none now dwell
To foggy forest o'er golden dell
In grass and glen they squat in rest
To their staying none protest.
No friends they've found, nor seek at last
Along hard ground they've swiftly passed
Abruptly was their leisure ended
Their anger roused, they were upended.
Now they respite, Now they respite,
They sit awaiting starry night.
========================
Excellent, er, 'reverse translation',
H-I. I particularly enjoyed "The President of molten fat"!
