A silver ribbon through the night it flows, Past silent hills where sleeping blossom grows. No whispers stir the ancient willow’s sigh, Only the moon’s bright mirror gliding by. A lonely boatman hums a tune so old, Of lovers’ tales in distant times retold. The stars above, like timeless witnesses, Watch water weave its quiet mysteries. This river runs to seas we’ll never see, Yet carries dreams for all eternity.
