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 dancing on the water's shimmering face,

While fireflies glow like dreams that time cannot erase.

He thinks of friends and laughter from many years gone by,

And wipes a silent tear drop from the corner of his eye.

The current carries stories that only night can tell,

Of love and loss and wonder, casting their gentle spell.

He turns his boat toward home as dawn begins to break,

Leaving only ripples in the moonlit river's wake.