The silver moon hangs o’er the tranquil lake, Where willow branches dance and gently sway. A lonely boat drifts by for memory’s sake, As stars above whisper what words cannot say. An old man sits upon the mossy stone, His flute’s soft melody the night embraces. The notes carry tales of loves he’s known, Of distant times and far-off places. The waters ripple with each falling petal, Peach blossoms sigh in spring’s tender breeze. Life’s fleeting joys and woes settle, Like autumn leaves falling ...