The silver moon hangs over tranquil lakes, Where whispered breezes stir the sleeping reeds. A lonely heron stands in misty shades, As water mirrors constellations’ gleams. Once travelers paused on this forgotten shore, Their wooden boats adorned with lanterns bright. They spoke of journeys taken long before, While drinking wine beneath the celestial light. Now only ripples mark their vanished trail, Yet still the moon maintains her watchful gaze— A timeless witness to each poignant tale, That...
