The grass is green on the hills of Eressea
Sapphire are the waves that touch it
Golden the Sun that warms the island
Serene are the faces of those who there dwell.

The sun forever shines and
Songs are forever heard.
Here where the Elves of old
Live in harmony with the land.

The grey ships that sail there
Bear the fading lords of Elves
And heroes of renown who are old
Not the young or lazy, but the old souls.

The green grass on the hills,
The sun and moon and stars of hope,
The grey ships that come
Of Eressea, the Elven-home until the end of time.