Lament for Eorl the Young [Norwegian translation]

Where now is the horse and the rider?

Where is the horn that was blowing?

Where is the helm and the hauberk,

and the bright hair flowing?

Where is the hand on the harpstring,

and the red fire glowing?

They have passed like rain on the mountain,

like a wind in the meadow;

The days have gone down in the West

behind the hills into shadow.

Who shall gather the smoke

of the deadwood burning,

Or behold the flowing years

from the Sea returning?