Where jade-green mountains kiss the sky,
And silver waterfalls descend,
A lonely flute begins to sigh,
Its melody the clouds attend.

The crane wings cross the morning blue,
Like dreams that wander far and free,
While mist conceals the world from view,
And pine trees bow beside the sea.

Her flowing robes embrace the breeze,
Her flute speaks softly to the stone,
The river carries through the trees
A thousand songs the heart has known.

The waterfall, a crystal thread,
Falls through the ancient mountain’s heart,
And every note the flute has shed
Becomes a dream before we part.

Oh, let the restless spirit fly,
Beyond the clouds, beyond the years,
Where cranes ascend the endless sky,
And music washes out our fears.

When evening paints the peaks in gold,
And stars awaken, one by one,
The flute’s last whisper will unfold
A peace beneath the setting sun.