Beneath the willow’s shaded sigh,
where moonlit deer dance shyly,
a soft song rustles through the leaves,
melancholic yet sweet, like an echoing bell.

Step lightly, the forest murmurs,
for dreams weave the scent of night,
in its embrace, the stars blend,
a tapestry of dark and silver light.

The stars? A forgotten language,
carried by the winds over time,
lull the weary traveler’s heart
into slumber among the ancient roots.

So listen, listen to the forest's pulse,
a lullaby steeped in morning dew,
where each note is a fable,
a step toward realms unseen.