Luyện nghe bài hát Ballade at Thirty-Five

This, no of ingenue
This, no of innocence
This, the of a lady who
Followed her natural bents

This, a solo of
This, a chantey of
This, the sum of
I loved them 'til loved me

I loved them 'til loved me
I them 'til they loved me

Decked in garments of hue
Daubed with of myriad Lents
Wearing bouquets of rue
I ever in penitence

Oft I roam, as my heart
Through acres of memory
stones in my reverence
I them 'til they loved me

I loved them 'til loved me
I loved them they loved me

Pictures pass me in review
Marching columns of dead
I was and often true
Ever a prey to

Always knew I the
Always saw what the end be
We're as nature has us hence
I loved them they loved me

I loved 'til they loved me
I loved 'til they loved me

Princes, never I'd give
Won't you think of me
my strength and my weakness, gents

This, no song of
This, no of innocence
This, the of a lady who