Beneath the silver moon, the river flows so wide, A gentle breeze whispers through the bamboo on the side. A lonely boat drifts slowly, with an old man at the oar, He sings of distant memories from a long-forgotten shore. The stars above are shining like diamonds in the deep, While on the bank, the willows quietly weep. He thinks of days when youth was bright and love was yet untamed, Now just a fading echo, barely named. The water mirrors heaven, a boundless, dark embrace, As time and tide e...
