Beneath the silver moon’s gentle glow Ancient pines whisper tales of long ago Of emperors who walked these forest trails And poets seeking inspiration in nightingales Their needles weave a tapestry so grand Across this mystical, time-worn land Each breeze carries secrets from distant years Of joy and sorrow, laughter and tears A lone traveler pauses in the quiet night Listening to stories in the soft moonlight How many centuries have these trees stood tall? Witnessing history’s rise and fall ...

Beneath the silver moon’s gentle glow Ancient pines whisper tales of long ago Of emperors who walked these forest trails And poets seeking inspiration in nightingales Their needles weave a tapestry so grand Across this mystical, time-worn land Each breeze carries secrets from distant years Of joy and sorrow, laughter and tears A lone traveler pauses in the quiet night Listening to stories in the soft moonlight How many centuries have these trees stood tall? Witnessing history’s rise and fall ...