Luyện nghe bài hát Caradhras

When winter are piercing chill,
and through the hawthorn the gale,
with solemn i tread the peak,
that the mountains vale.

my doom!

Where twisted round the oak,
the winter in beauty clung,
and winds the stillness broke,
the icicle is hung.

my doom!

But still music is abroad,
pale, desert woods! your crowd;
and winds, in hoarse accord,
amid the reeds pipe loud.

upon the land,
on the (mountain) peak i hear
(the of) the world profound.