Luyện nghe bài hát The Butterfly

This the moon dreams more lazily
As some woman, lost in cushions deep
With gentle hand caresses
The contour of her breasts before she
On velvet backs of avalanches
She often enraptured as she dies
And on white visions aloft
Which like a blossoming to rise
When sometimes on this globe, in
She lets a secret drop down, by chance
A poet, set against
Takes in his hand this pale and furtive
This opal where rainbow hues appear
And hides it in his breast far the sun