Beneath the moonlit sky, where whispers flow,
The swans glide gently, in a tranquil row.
Their feathers, pure as freshly fallen snow,
Mirror the stars’ soft, enchanting glow.

With every stroke, the water sings a song,
Of timeless grace, where they belong.
In silent harmony, they glide along,
Their presence, like a dream, so strong.

Underneath the willow’s tender leaves,
They find a haven, where the heart believes.
In love and peace, the world receives,
The beauty that their dance conceives.

As dawn approaches, with its golden hue,
The swans bid night a soft adieu.
Their elegance, a sight so true,
Leaves a memory, forever new.