Luyện nghe bài hát Sorrows of the moon

This evening the moon more lazily
As some fair woman, lost in cushions
With gentle hand listlessly
The contour of her before she sleeps
On backs of avalanches soft
She often lies as she dies
And gazes on white visions
Which like a blossoming to rise
When sometimes on globe, in indolence
She lets a tear drop down, by chance
A poet, set oblivion
Takes in his hand this and furtive tear
This opal drop where hues appear
And hides it in his far from the sun