Luyện nghe bài hát Milanese Waltz/ Marie Flore

Marie, Marie Flore was a small girl of ten whom I met in the end of France
Stepping out of a crowd was the daughter of someone flowers for me, we were friends at a glance
She spoke no English but sat by my in the car
And pointed out en route to the village of Arles

Marie, Marie Flore came to table that night as I in an ancient hotel
The room was all fitted with things from the seventeenth century and they her well
She would eat nothing but sat in her chair a queen
And laughed at my French but seemed always to what I mean

Marie, Marie Flore came to hear me night when I sang for the people of Arles
She stood back in the shadows of a arena, her frame in my mind was never too far
In the rush did follow, I found she was holding my hand
And ushering me through an evening the elders had
Marie, Marie Flore, I will remember your eyes, your smile, and your grace
The gold that flowed with your laughter remain to enlighten the image I have of your
For I have seen children whose are wiser than time
And you, my Marie, are most one of that kind

Marie, Flore, all the odds say I'll see you again, by plan or by chance
But if not, you'll be there when I'm dreaming of rain over Paris, or sun in the south end of
Marie, Marie, Flore...