The silver moon hangs o’er the tranquil lake, Where willow branches dance and gently shake. A lonely boat drifts on the water deep, While weary fishermen lie fast asleep. Upon the shore, a scholar stands alone, Reciting verses in a softened tone. He sings of love that time cannot erase, Of longing etched on memory’s face. The stars above like scattered diamonds gleam, Reflected in the liquid silver stream. This peaceful night, so silent and so clear, Holds ancient secrets for all who’ll hear....
