Beneath the ancient skies, where whispers hold the night,
The moon ascends with grace, casting silver light.
In gardens of the heart, where lotus dreams unfold,
A tale of whispers told, in stories yet untold.

Her glow, a gentle brush, paints dreams upon the sea,
Reflections dance and play, in tranquil symphony.
Lanterns softly sway, in rhythm with her glow,
A dance of shadows cast, in hues of softest snow.

In temples old and wise, the incense curls like dreams,
The moonlight bathes the stone, in soft and ancient beams.
A silent guardian stands, with eyes upon the sky,
Watching over dreams, as time goes drifting by.

Through bamboo forests deep, her silver whispers glide,
In every corner found, where secrets love to hide.
The moon, a timeless muse, in China’s vast embrace,
Guides the weary soul, with her eternal grace.