A gentle stream through mossy stones does weave, Its murmuring song the rustling leaves receive. It tells of journeys from the mountain’s crown, Where crystal droplets like small jewels roll down. Through sun-dappled woods and meadows fair, It carries stories on the liquid air— Of fish that dart like silver in the deep, And secrets that the ancient waters keep. At dusk, the fireflies begin to gleam, Their golden dance reflects upon the stream. The moon then paints a path of shimmering light, ...

A gentle stream through mossy stones does weave, Its murmuring song the rustling leaves receive. It tells of journeys from the mountain’s crown, Where crystal droplets like small jewels roll down. Through sun-dappled woods and meadows fair, It carries stories on the liquid air— Of fish that dart like silver in the deep, And secrets that the ancient waters keep. At dusk, the fireflies begin to gleam, Their golden dance reflects upon the stream. The moon then paints a path of shimmering light, ...