Beneath the silver moon, the river flows, A shimmering path where silent longing grows. On distant shores, the willow branches sway, As whispered dreams are carried far away. A lonely boatman sings a mournful tune, His voice embraced by midnight’s gentle swoon. The stars above like ancient poets gaze, On timeless waters lost in silver haze. No need for words where nature tells her tale, The wind composes verses on the sail. This liquid road that leads to nowhere known, Holds more sweet truth ...

Beneath the silver moon, the river flows, A shimmering path where silent longing grows. On distant shores, the willow branches sway, As whispered dreams are carried far away. A lonely boatman sings a mournful tune, His voice embraced by midnight’s gentle swoon. The stars above like ancient poets gaze, On timeless waters lost in silver haze. No need for words where nature tells her tale, The wind composes verses on the sail. This liquid road that leads to nowhere known, Holds more sweet truth ...