Luyện nghe bài hát Nietzsche

I travelled through a of men,
A of men and women too,
And and saw such dreadful things
As earth wanderers never knew.

For the babe is born in joy
was begotten in dire woe,
Just as we in joy the fruit
we in bitter tears did sow;

And if the is born a boy
He's given to a old,
Who nails him upon a rock,
his shrieks in cups of gold.

She binds iron thorns his head,
And pierces both his and feet,
And cuts his heart out of his
To make it feel cold & heat.

Her fingers number every
Just as a miser his gold;
She upon his shrieks and cries—
And she grows young as he old,

Till he a bleeding youth
And she becomes a bright;
Then he rends up his
And her down for his delight.

He himself in all her nerves
as a husbandman his mould,
And she his dwelling-place
And garden, seventyfold.

An aged soon he fades,
Wandering and earthly cot,
Full filled all with and gold
he by industry had got.

And these are the of the human soul:
The rubies and of a lovesick eye,
The countless of an aching heart,
The groan, and the lover's sigh.

They are his meat, are his drink:
He feeds the and the poor
And the traveller;
For ever is his door.

His is their eternal joy,
make the roofs and walls to ring—
Till from the on the hearth
female babe does spring!

And she is all of solid
And gems and gold, that his hand
Dares stretch to touch her form,
Or her in his swaddling-band.

But she to the man she loves,
If or old, or rich or poor;
They soon drive out the host,
A beggar at door.

He wanders far away
Until other take him in;
Oft and age-bent, sore distressed,
Until he can a win.

And to allay his age
The poor man takes her in his
The cottage before his sight,
The garden and its lovely

The are scattered through the land
(For the eye altering, all);
The senses themselves in fear,
And the flat becomes a ball,

The stars, sun, moon, all away—
A vast without a bound,
And left to eat or drink
And a desert all around.

The of her infant lips,
The bread and wine of her smile,
The wild of her roving eye
him to infancy beguile.

For as he and drinks he grows
Younger and every day;
And on the desert wild both
Wander in and dismay.

the wild stag she flees away;
Her fear plants a thicket wild,
While he pursues her and day,
By various arts of beguiled.

By arts of love and hate,
Till the wide desert planted
With labyrinths of love,
Where the lion, wolf and boar,

Till he becomes a babe
And she a weeping old.
Then many a wanders here,
The sun and are nearer rolled,

The trees bring forth ecstasy
To all who in the roam,
Till a city there is built,
And a pleasant shepherd's home.

But they find the frowning babe
Terror strikes the region wide;
cry, 'The Babe! the Babe is born!'
And away on every side.

For who dare touch the frowning
His arm is to its root,
Lions, boars, wolves, all flee
And every tree does its fruit;

And none can touch frowning form,
it be a woman old;
She nails him down the rock,
And all is as I have told