Beside the mossy stones I stray, Where silver waters dance and play. A gentle breeze through willows sighs, As twilight paints the western skies. Two finches chase in joyful flight, Their feathers kissed by fading light. The ancient pine stands tall and deep, Guarding secrets the valley keep. Here time itself seems slow to pass, Reflected in the mountain's glass. Yet still the stream flows ever on— What stories to the sea has gone!

Beside the mossy stones I stray, Where silver waters dance and play. A gentle breeze through willows sighs, As twilight paints the western skies. Two finches chase in joyful flight, Their feathers kissed by fading light. The ancient pine stands tall and deep, Guarding secrets the valley keep. Here time itself seems slow to pass, Reflected in the mountain's glass. Yet still the stream flows ever on— What stories to the sea has gone!