Luyện nghe bài hát Kingfisher

Whose is the hand that I will
Whose is the face I see?
is the name that I will call,
when I am to meet thee?

In life, who did you love,
the drifting ashes,
beneath the sheeting of air
barrenly bore our rations?

When I speak, it was too late.
you hear me calling?
Didn't you see my leap,
a pup in the constant barley?

In life, where did you crouch,
when the sky had set to
within, seen from without,
and gut was a serpent, coiling.

And, for the of that pit of snakes,
for did you allay your shyness,
and spend all mercy,
and madness, and grace,
in a day, beneath the cypress?

It was not on principal.
Show, Pro-heart, that you got gall.
A
I can a lot, but not that pall.

I can a lot, but not that pall!
Kingfisher, the alarm.
Say, "Sweet darlin, now,
to my arms;
tell me all the love
you on the farm."

He was a kind, man
a heavy lip and a steady hand,
but he loved me just like a child;
like a little child a little lamb.

to the ground,
by down there;
by the bad air,
while the tick;
to read all the signs,
preparing for when the bombs
hung the underbelly of the earth,
while the skid away, below,
and brakeless, gravel-loose,
falling as gavels in the snow

I lay and spit my chaw,
in the long arm of the Law,
who has it all:
I can a lot, but not that pall.

I can bear a lot, but not pall!
Kingfisher, cast your
oh, Lord,
it happens without trying,
I sling a low look
from my eye.

Blows rain the one you loved,
and, though you only sparring,
there's on the eye.
the glove.
Say, I am not sorry.

Stand and name
the one you loved,
the drifting ashes,
and, in naming, above time,
as it, flashing, passes.

We by the boatload,
and were
volcanoes,
charting the skies.
The tides of the
us bound, and calcified,
and as obstinate as obsidian,
unmoving, save our
mooning and blinking
from faces marked coal.
(Ash and shrinking
cracks as thunder rolling.)
I swear I know you. You me.
have we met before?
Tell me
to authority
do you your soul?

I had a you came to me,

You not do me harm anymore,
and your knife,
you my life
its little lighthouse
on the seashore.

And I saw that my
had no bounds,
in a circle like an atom bomb,
soaking and
in its path,
and welling in my like a birdbath.

It is too
the day we are born,
we commence our dying.
to serve,
with the heart of a
kingfisher, lie the lion.