Luyện nghe bài hát [Untitled]

We held hands on the last on earth.
Our mouths filled dust, we kissed in the fields and under trees,
screaming like dogs, dark into the leaves.
It was empty on the edge of town but we everyone floated
the bottom of the river.
So we walked through the waste where the road into the sea
and the shattered lay,
and the bitter of burning was on you like a disease.
In our cancer of passion you said, "Death is a runner."
The sky had come down like the news of an intimate suicide.
We up the shards and formed them into shapes
of stars that like an antique wedding dress.
The echoes of the past the hearts of the unborn
as the ferris wheel slowed to a stop.
The few insects skittered in hopes of a better pastime.
I kissed you at the apex of the maelstrom and
if you would accompany me in a fall,
but you made me realize that my ticket good for two.
I alone.
You said, "The cinders are like snow."
is poetry in despair, and we sang with unrivaled beauty,
bitter of savagery and eloquence.
Of and grey.
Strange, we ran down desperate and carved our names in the flesh of the city.
The sun was stagnated beyond the rim of the horizon
and the darkness is a mystery of and lines.
Still, we lay the emptiness and drifted slowly outward,
and somewhere in the wilderness we salvation scratched
the earth like a message.

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