Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine recounts a dream. Of whispered tales through ages borne, On winds that dance from dusk till morn. A traveler paused one autumn night, To rest within its sheltering light. He heard the boughs in rustling speech, Share wisdom far beyond his reach. They sang of emperors long departed, Of lovers steadfast, faithful-hearted. Of battles fought in mountain passes, Of hope that springs in greenest grasses. The stars above like witnesses shone, As ...
