Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, a lonely traveler rests by a murmuring stream. Ancient pines whisper tales of old, of love and courage, brave and bold. A distant bell from a temple rings, as night her silent mystery brings. The wind carries a faint perfume, of plum blossoms that once did bloom. Stars above like diamonds bright, guard the secrets of the night. In dreams, he walks through jade-green halls, where memory’s gentle echo calls. At dawn, he wakes to misty light, with heart rene...