A silver ribbon winds through sleeping hills, Where cold stars dance upon the quiet deep. A lone boat drifts, as night in silence fills, While memories the solemn waters keep. The fisher’s lamp afar like firefly glows, His song of reed pipes fades in misty air. I recall one who loved the moon’s repose, Now gone like autumn leaves, no longer there. Yet still the river flows to distant shores, And still the moon shines on both joy and pain— A timeless truth the flowing water pours: All things m...
