Luyện nghe bài hát Fairwell to Pripchat

It was a friday in 1986,
The day that begun,
When the dust it down on our buildings and streets,
And our buildings at noon,
Touched the and trees, bicycyles, cars
Beds, and picture frames too,
We around helpless, confused,
Nobody what to do.

At two on sunday the buses arrived,
A of a thousand or more,
We were to be on our way,
Not knowing lay in store ,
Some of our fled in dismay,
And looked for a place to hide,
When four o'clock and the last bus pulled out,
T'was the day our lively town died.

(chorus)
And the shirts, sheets and hankerchiefs in the wind,
On the ledge the withering plants,
And the ladas and volgas are by the door,
And the bikes in usual stance.
Our evergreen lies withered and drooped,
They've poisoned our land,
The speak a deafening silence,
stirs but the sand.

A visit back is so eerie today,
A pompei in view,
To see all the old shops ond the hotel,
And the cinema too.
The momentos we gathered all behind,
Our photos and and cards,
The toys of our children now,
Toy soldiers left on guard.

So fare thee pripchat, my home and my soul,
Your sorrow can no relief.
A glimpse of the future you show,
Your all scattered like geese,
The clothes lines sways but the owners long gone.
As the era returns,
The questions in black and white into grey,
The answer is too to learn.

(chorus)

(chorus)