Beneath the silver moon’s gentle glow, A lonely traveler walks through night’s soft flow. His shadow dances on the silent ground, While distant temple bells produce the only sound. He pauses by a bridge where waters sleep, And memories from ancient depths now creep. The river speaks of dynasties long past, Of lovers’ vows that were too frail to last. A single lotus on the stream does float, Like hope afloat in every human throat. The stars above whisper their old design— This moment, like all...
