In the whispers of the ancient trees,
Where roots run deep, and history breathes,
We find the echoes of our past,
In every stone, a story cast.

Through traditions passed from hand to hand,
A culture rich, a heritage grand,
We dance to rhythms old and wise,
Beneath the ever-watching skies.

Our songs are threads in the tapestry,
Of love, of loss, of victory,
Each note a bridge from then to now,
A promise kept, a sacred vow.

So let us honor those before,
Their dreams and hopes forevermore,
For in their footsteps, we shall tread,
And keep the flames of culture fed.