The Vanyar and the Noldor, after a long time,

reached the Hither Lands' westernmost shores.

The northern coasts' westward-curved design

was separated from Aman only by a strait, so close.

Yet in those waters the bitter, poignant cold of Melkor

had filled the sea with drifting ice blocks and dangers,

so Oromë didn't lead the Eldar through the far north,

instead he guided them through Beleriand's fairness.

There the Eldar, with awe and with fear,

for the first time set eyes on the ocean,

bottomless, vast, wild, uncontrollably austere,

mysteriously melancholic, watery motion.

The Valar requested from Ulmo to speak

to the Eldar who were gazing by the abyss,

the King himself of the obscure bottomless pit,

a real vision, in flesh, proven to really exist.

Rarely Did Ulmo appear in his visible form,

seldom did he speak or make known his presence,

now by his wise words and mighty conch horn,

the Vala, through their souls' convalescence,

transformed their fright to yearning for the sea,

a deep nostalgic love of freedom mixed with longing;

then Ulmo uprooted a lonely island to turn it to a ship,

anchoring it in the Bay of Balar, to assist the Elves in crossing.

Where the waters of Sirion entered the sea,

the Vanyar and the Noldor boarded the vessel,

they sailed, reaching vastness for the eye to see

nothing else but water horizons at the surface level.

Finally! The shores beneath the Mountains of Aman,

legendary, they had seemed an impossible fable,

stood before their eyes, so real! Life anew began

when they entered the blessed Valinor fateful.

They were welcomed with joy in the Heaven of Gods,

meeting face to face the unseen Creators Almigthy.

What inexpressible, ineffable emotions and thoughts

uplifted the Eldar with an overwhelming mighty feel.