Silver moonlight drapes the quiet stream, Where willow branches gently sway and dream. A lonely boat drifts with the current’s flow, As whispers of the past begin to grow. Upon the shore, a scholar stands alone, Recalling days when love was newly sown. His lute plays melodies of long-lost years, Echoing joy, and laughter mixed with tears. The stars above like ancient poems gleam, Their distant light a melancholic theme. Yet in the night, a peace begins to bloom— A tranquil end to sorrow and t...
