A silver ribbon winds through sleeping hills, Where cold stars dance upon the liquid glass. A lonely fisher’s boat the silence fills, As memories of spring on currents pass. The moon, a pearl dropped from the hand of night, Guides wanderers home with gentle beams. While weeping willows kiss the water’s light, And trace their sorrows in the river’s dreams. Yet dawn will come to wash the stars away— This timeless flow knows neither pause nor end. Just one bright moment stole...

A silver ribbon winds through sleeping hills, Where cold stars dance upon the liquid glass. A lonely fisher’s boat the silence fills, As memories of spring on currents pass. The moon, a pearl dropped from the hand of night, Guides wanderers home with gentle beams. While weeping willows kiss the water’s light, And trace their sorrows in the river’s dreams. Yet dawn will come to wash the stars away— This timeless flow knows neither pause nor end. Just one bright moment stole...