Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam,

Where silent mountains guard the stream,

A lone deer treads on frosty grass

Through mists that shift like fragile glass.

An ancient pine extends its arm

To shield the world from all that harms,

Its whispered tales of ages past

In every breath of autumn’s blast.

Two cranes take flight toward the sun,

Their journey but anew begun,

While far below the river flows

Where time both comes and ever goes.

This tranquil scene of stone and dew

Holds more than mortal eyes can view—

A truth that lingers in the air:

All things find peace in nature’s care.