The silver moon hangs o’er the tranquil lake,

Where willow branches dance and softly quake.

A lonely boat drifts on the water’s gleam,

As distant mountains fade in misty dream.

A poet sighs with cup of wine in hand,

Recalling youth like grains of flowing sand.

The night breeze whispers through the bamboo grove,

Carrying echoes of long-lost love.

Though years may pass and seasons turn their page,

These moonlit scenes still stir the heart’s deep cage.

Drink to the beauty that will never fade—

In memory’s light, eternal peace is made.