A gentle stream meanders through the mossy stones, Whispering tales of forgotten dreams and ancient tones. Beneath the willow’s shade, where golden sunlight plays, A lonely traveler rests to ponder through the haze. He recalls a distant land where cherry blossoms fall, And memories like paintings adorn a silent hall. The moon once kissed the mountains in a silver embrace, Now only echoes linger in this timeless space. Yet hope remains—a seed in soil awaiting rain, For every ending nurtures ne...
