Where willow branches dance and softly sway.

A lonely boat drifts by for heaven’s sake,

As stars above begin to fade away.

An old man sits upon the mossy stone,

Recalling youth like petals on the stream.

The night wind whispers tales of ages flown,

While fireflies weave a melancholy gleam.

Though years may pass and seasons turn their page,

The moon remains—a witness to all sorrow.

Her gentle light transcends both youth and age,

And promises a brighter new tomorrow.

An ancient pine recalls a stream

Where laughing children once did play

Through long forgotten summer’s day.

Its needles murmur tales of old—

Of lovers’ vows in darkness told,

Of warriors resting from the fight,

Of scholars reading by moonlight.

The wind now sings through boughs so high

A lullaby to earth and sky,

While stars above like memories gleam

Within the pine’s eternal dream.