Luyện nghe bài hát Veshengro

Moon of the berries is waning to
Bavol the wind on the whale's way
for Veshengro, oak ash and may
I not flash the day glance on the strong
shield
Nor yet the moon on the frightened man
Bring her sweet peace ere she on the
of God
With the nutrnegs and oak-apples of her
counts the praying sand
Who cradles earth and in the hollow of her hand

I was a wasp on a nettled
Ten thousand brothers in a nest of paper
And every sopping apple its cider sweet for my thin tongue

I was a at the court of Fionn
I wore the coat of patches with Jalal beneath the
Sang at the black of Ain
I sweet pastries for the Quenn of Spain
I hid my alchemy beneath the stone of
Burned at the post my boiling
Made craters of my

The of history it is not revealed
We hear not clear but only hope and fear
And the of crime, and the pride of the time

I was a repelled by a woman's smell
I sailed in ship, a mouse that gnawed the grain
Trapped by the on one dark day
I have spoken the Thames in much sweeter times
And the Medway where she rolls her waves

The snake-weed is hissing the wind of the
The mountains are where Albion is born
The light rays are gathering Horus is shown
for Veshengro. oak ash and thorn.