Luyện nghe bài hát The Unquiet Grave

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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

I am stretched on your grave, and you'll me
always, If I had bounty of your arms I
should never you. Little apple, my
beloved, it is time for me to lay you, There
is the cold of clay on me, the tan of the
sun and the wind. There is a on my heart,
which is filled with for you, And melancholy
beneath it as as the sloes. If anything
to me, and death overthrows me, I
shall a fairy wind-gust down on the
meadows before you. When my thinks
I'm in my bed, It is on your grave I am
stretched from night till morning, my
distress and lamenting For my quiet
girl who was bethrothed to me as a child.
Do you remember the when you and I
were the blackthorn tree, And the night
A hundred praises to gods that we did
nothing harmful, And your crown of
is a tree of light you! The priests and the
monks every day were angry me For being
in love you, young girl, when you are dead.
I be a shelter from the wind for you And
from the rain for you; And oh, keen
sorrow to my that you are under the
earth!