A tale unfolds by the silent stream, where an ancient willow’s branches gleam. It’s said that on nights when the moon is new, its leaves share secrets pure and true. Long ago, a poet seeking grace found solace in this tranquil space. He carved his dreams upon the bark, and listened to the willow’s remark. “Words are but echoes of the heart, where wisdom and art shall never part.” Now travelers pause in passing light, to hear its whisper soft and bright. For in the rustle of the leaves, one fi...
