Beneath the silver moon’s gentle glow, Ancient pines whisper tales of long ago. A wandering bard with a lute in hand, Sings of lost kingdoms across the sand. Through mists of time where memories dwell, Echoes a forgotten emperor’s bell. Crimson leaves dance in autumn’s crisp air, Carrying dreams too fragile to bear. By the jade river where lotus flowers bloom, A brush dips ink to dispel all gloom. On parchment scrolls, emotions unfold— A timeless story forever told.
