A silver ribbon winds through sleeping hills, Where cold stars dance on liquid glass. A lonely fisherman’s lamp softly glows, As night’s black ink absorbs the past. His oar disturbs the dreaming fish below— One circle spreads, then fades from sight. The moon maintains her ancient, silent watch, Painting the world in ghostly light. No words are spoken on this timeless stream, Just water’s whisper, faint and deep. The boat becomes a shadow slowly drifting, While all the world is lost in sleep.

A silver ribbon winds through sleeping hills, Where cold stars dance on liquid glass. A lonely fisherman’s lamp softly glows, As night’s black ink absorbs the past. His oar disturbs the dreaming fish below— One circle spreads, then fades from sight. The moon maintains her ancient, silent watch, Painting the world in ghostly light. No words are spoken on this timeless stream, Just water’s whisper, faint and deep. The boat becomes a shadow slowly drifting, While all the world is lost in sleep.