A silver moon hangs over the quiet river, Where an old fisherman casts his net alone. The water whispers tales of long-lost lovers, As ripples dance where ancient dreams were sown. He pulls his boat with practiced, weary hands, And hums a tune his father taught him young. The stars above blink from their distant lands, While nightingales in willows songs have sung. A sudden splash—a fish leaps from the deep, Breaking the stillness of the mirrored night. The man just smiles and lets the moment...