Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine recounts a dream Of whispered tales through rustling boughs That time itself cannot arouse. A traveler paused one autumn night, His heart by solitude made light, He heard the conifers exhale A saga carried on the gale. Of mountains old and rivers deep, Secrets the stars themselves would keep, Of lovers’ vows in spring’s embrace Etched in bark with timeless grace. Now when the western wind blows south, The pine still speaks with verdant mou...

Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine recounts a dream Of whispered tales through rustling boughs That time itself cannot arouse. A traveler paused one autumn night, His heart by solitude made light, He heard the conifers exhale A saga carried on the gale. Of mountains old and rivers deep, Secrets the stars themselves would keep, Of lovers’ vows in spring’s embrace Etched in bark with timeless grace. Now when the western wind blows south, The pine still speaks with verdant mou...