Quay lại trang chủ | Luyện nghe Bài Hát

 The rusted chains of  moons
 Are shattered  the sun.
 I walk  road, horizons change
 The tournament's begun.
 The  piper plays his tune,
  choir softly sing;
 Three lullabies in an  tongue,
 For the court of the  king.
 
 The keeper of the  keys
 Put  on the dreams.
 I wait outside the pilgrim's 
 With insufficient schemes.
 The  queen chants
 the funeral march,
 The cracked brass bells will 
 To summon back the fire 
 To the  of the crimson king.
 
  gardener plants an evergreen
 Whilst trampling  a flower.
 I  the wind of a prism ship
 To taste the sweet and 
 The  juggler lifts his hand;
 The orchestra begin.
 As  turns the grinding wheel
 In the court of the crimson 
 
 On soft grey mornings  cry,
 The wise men share  joke;
 I run  grasp divining signs
  satisfy the hoax.
 The  jester does not play
 But gently pulls  strings
 And smiles as  puppets dance
 In the court  the crimson king