Beneath the silver moon, the river flows so wide, A gentle breeze whispers through the bamboo on the side. A lonely boat drifts slowly, with no one left to guide, While distant temple bells ring out across the tide. The fisherman sings softly, his song both old and deep, As memories of loved ones stir the waters in their sleep. The stars above are watching, their promises to keep, While dreams of spring and blossoms in the current seep. Yet time moves ever onward, the waves will never stay, J...
