Luyện nghe bài hát Veshengro

Moon of the is waning to clay
Bavol the leap on the whale's way
for Veshengro, oak ash and may
I not flash the day glance on the strong
king's
Nor yet the moon glance on the man
her sweet peace ere she rests on the
of God
With the and oak-apples of her rosary
That the praying sand
Who cradles and water in the hollow of her hand

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

I was a swineherd at the of Fionn
I wore the coat of patches Jalal beneath the stars
at the black court of Ain
I baked pastries for the Quenn of Spain
I hid my alchemy the stone of lies
Burned at the post my brain
Made craters of my

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

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

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