Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, A lonely traveler follows a babbling stream. Through misty mountains, dark and deep, Where ancient pines their secrets keep. He hears a voice upon the breeze, That rustles gently through the trees. It tells of love and long-lost years, Of joy and sorrow, hopes and fears. A maiden waits by water’s edge, Her heart upon a stony ledge. She gazes where the stars reflect, For memories she can’t reject. The traveler pauses, feels her pain, Then slowly walks thro...
