Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam,

A lonely traveler follows a fading stream.

Through misty valleys, dark and deep,

Where ancient pines their secrets keep.

He hears a voice upon the breeze,

That rustles gently through the trees.

It tells of love and long-lost years,

Of joy and sorrow, hopes and fears.

A maiden waits by water clear,

Her heart still true, her vision sheer.

Though seasons pass and worlds may change,

Her spirit walks this mountain range.

The traveler pauses, looks around,

But finds no one on this sacred ground.

Just echoes of a timeless song,

That through the pines has traveled long.

He smiles and continues on his way,

With brighter heart at break of day.

Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam,

A lonely traveler follows a fading stream.

Through misty valleys, dark and deep,

Where ancient pines their secrets keep.

He hears a voice upon the breeze,

That rustles gently through the trees.

It tells of love and long-lost years,

Of joy and sorrow, hopes and fears.

A maiden waits by water clear,

Her heart still true, her vision sheer.

Though seasons pass and worlds may change,

Her spirit walks this mountain range.

The traveler pauses, looks around,

But finds no one on this sacred ground.

Just echoes of a timeless song,

That through the pines has traveled long.

He smiles and continues on his way,

With brighter heart at break of day.