Beneath the silver moon, the river flows so wide, A lonely boatman sings with the gentle tide. On misty banks, the reeds sway soft and low, As memories of old friends begin to glow. He recalls the laughter shared in spring’s warm breeze, Now scattered like fallen leaves on distant seas. Yet in his heart, their voices still remain, Like timeless verses in the evening rain. The stars above whisper tales of joy and sorrow, Promising a brighter dawn tomorrow. With every stroke, he carves a path t...
