Luyện nghe bài hát Ballade At Thirty Five

This, no of ingnue,
This, no of innocence;
This, the rhyme of a who
ever the natural bents.
This, a of sapience,
This, a of sophistry,
This, the sum of experiments, --
I loved them they loved me.

Decked in of sable hue,
Daubed with ashes of Lents,
Wearing bouquets of rue,
Walk I in penitence.
Oft I roam, as my repents,
Through acre of memory,
stones, in my reverence,
"I them until they loved me."

pass me in long review,--
Marching columns of events.
I was tender, and, often,
a prey to coincidence.
Always knew I the
saw what the end would be.
We're as has made us -- hence
I them until they loved me.

Princes, never I'd offense,
you think of me tenderly?
Here's my and my weakness, gents -
I loved them until loved me.