That, my dear readers, is the first line of the Happy Birthday Song, translated into one of Tolkien's elvish languages - Quenya, to be exact - and written in Tengwar. Today is J. R. R. Tolkien's birthday.
And that is a nifty card, which I just whipped out, containing all the lyrics to the Happy Birthday Song, as the High Elves would sing it, supposing, of course, that High Elves indulge in such things. (I didn't translate it myself, I am sorry to say. I have not worked at my Tolkien languages in a while. I got it from this site here.)
I have not quite decided what I shall do to celebrate such an auspicious occasion. Hopefully, it will involve mushrooms as part of dinner. Perhaps tomatoes, sausages and nice, crispy bacon too. If my memory has not utterly foresaken me (and, alas, that is always a strong possibility) I do believe there might be such a thing as a bottle of Irish lager lurking in the refridgerator. And, of course, I will have to read something by the good man. I am thinking one of his short stories. I have not indulged in Farmer Giles of Ham in quite a while, nor Smith of Wootton Major either, for that matter.
*Marqueture is the Elvish translation of the name, Ronald, which is the name by which the good Professor was most commanly known during is life time.