The silver moon hangs o’er the tranquil lake, Where willow branches dance and softly sway. A lonely boat drifts by for heaven’s sake, As stars above in boundless dark array. An old man sits with wine and memories, Recalling spring when blossoms filled the air. Now autumn whispers through the leafless trees, With frost-kissed grass beyond his rustic chair. He chants a verse from poets long since gone, Their words still echo in the night’s embrace. The timeless river ever flows along, Carrying ...
