Luyện nghe bài hát Nietzsche

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

For there the is born in joy
That was 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,
Catches his shrieks in of gold.

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

Her fingers number every
Just as a miser counts his
She lives upon his shrieks and
And she grows young as he old,

Till he becomes a bleeding
And she becomes a virgin
Then he rends up his
And pins her for his delight.

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

An aged soon he fades,
round and earthly cot,
Full all with gems and gold
Which he by had got.

And these are the of the human soul:
The rubies and 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 feeds the and the poor
And the wayfaring
For ever is his door.

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

And she is all of solid
And gems and gold, that none his
stretch 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 wanders weeping far
Until some other him in;
Oft and age-bent, sore distressed,
he can a maiden win.

And to allay his age
The poor man her in his arms:
The cottage before his sight,
The and its lovely charms;

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

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

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

For as he eats and he grows
and younger every day;
And on the desert wild they
Wander in and dismay.

Like the wild stag she away;
Her fear plants many a wild,
While he her night and day,
By various of love beguiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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