Here's an older attempt of mine at Shelley's Ozymandias (from 2008):

Nórello yára lendo omennenye
ye eque: talu ú telco ondove haure
tarir erumesse. Arte litsesse,
pertanna tompa rácina cendele,
yeo cendie, penga pé, canwa cár
tanar maitarya ecendie i walmi mai
ar en termarinte, pa úcoirie coar,
i má ya te yaine, i enda ya alanye tai.
Ar i quettar sine netyar i talma:
‘Nanye Ozimandias, Tárion Tár:
A cene cardanyar, melehta, ar sorya!‘
Exe ua lemya. Lann’ i quelie
i polda loico tana, ú pelo, parna,
palanna pelya i passa erume.


I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
`My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.