Beneath the silver moon, the river flows so wide, A gentle breeze whispers through the bamboo on the side. A lonely boat drifts slowly, with an old man at the oar, He sings of distant memories from a shore he’ll see no more. The stars above are blinking, like diamonds in the deep, While villages are sleeping, their promises to keep. The water holds the reflections of mountains far and grand, A timeless, endless beauty across the sleeping land. He thinks of friends and laughter from years long...
