Luyện nghe bài hát Nietzsche

I travelled a land of men,
A land of men and too,
And heard and saw dreadful things
As cold earth wanderers knew.

For the babe is born in joy
was begotten in dire woe,
Just as we reap in joy the
Which we in bitter 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 thorns around his head,
And both his hands and feet,
And cuts his out of his side
To it feel both cold & heat.

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

Till he a bleeding youth
And she becomes a virgin
he rends up his manacles
And her down for his delight.

He plants himself in all her
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 gems and gold
he by industry had got.

And these are the gems of the 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, they are his
He feeds the and the poor
And the wayfaring
For ever is his door.

His grief is eternal joy,
make the roofs and walls to ring—
Till from the on the hearth
Alittle babe does 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 or old, or rich or poor;
soon drive out the aged host,
A at another's door.

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

And to allay his age
The man takes her in his arms:
The cottage before his sight,
The garden and its 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 away—
A desert vast a bound,
And nothing to eat or drink
And a dark all around.

The honey of her lips,
The bread and of her sweet smile,
The game of her roving eye
him to infancy beguile.

For as he and drinks he grows
Younger and younger day;
And on the desert they both
in terror and dismay.

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

By various arts of and hate,
Till the wide desert o'er
With of wayward love,
roams the lion, wolf and boar,

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

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

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

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

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