Luyện nghe bài hát Nietzsche

I travelled a land of men,
A land of men and too,
And heard and saw such dreadful
As cold earth never knew.

For there the babe is in joy
was begotten in dire woe,
Just as we reap in joy the
Which we in tears did sow;

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

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

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

Till he becomes a bleeding
And she becomes a bright;
he rends up his manacles
And pins her for his delight.

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

An aged shadow he fades,
Wandering round and cot,
filled all with gems and gold
Which he by had got.

And these are the gems of the soul:
The and pearls of a lovesick eye,
The gold of an aching heart,
The martyr's groan, and the sigh.

They are his meat, they are his
He the beggar and the poor
And the wayfaring
For open is his door.

His grief is eternal joy,
make the roofs and walls to ring—
Till from the fire on the
Alittle female babe spring!

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

But she to the man she loves,
If young or old, or or poor;
They soon drive out the host,
A at another's door.

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

And to his freezing age
The poor man takes her in his
The cottage before his sight,
The and its lovely charms;

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

The stars, sun, moon, all shrink
A desert vast a bound,
And nothing to eat or drink
And a dark all around.

The of her infant lips,
The and wine of her sweet 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
in terror and dismay.

Like the wild she flees away;
Her plants many a thicket wild,
he pursues her night and day,
By various arts of beguiled.

By various of love and hate,
the wide desert planted o'er
With labyrinths of love,
Where roams the lion, and boar,

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

The trees bring sweet ecstasy
To all who in the roam,
Till many a city is built,
And many a pleasant home.

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

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

And can touch that frowning form,
it be a woman old;
She him down upon the rock,
And all is as I have told