Beneath the silver gleam of moon, a river flows so deep, Where willow branches gently sway and quiet waters sleep. A lonely boat drifts slowly by, with no one at the oar, While distant temple bells ring out across the eastern shore. The fisherman sings ancient songs his father used to know, His voice a thread of melody that mingles with the glow. The stars above like scattered pearls adorn the midnight blue, Reflecting in the tranquil stream—a scene forever new. Yet in this peace, a wistful s...
