Whispers of ancestors in the gentle breeze,Stories woven in the fabric of our land.Colors and rhythms that never cease,A tapestry crafted by loving hands.In the dance of shadows beneath the moon,Voices rise in songs of old.Echoes that promise dawn too soon,In melodies both brave and bold.From the heart of mountains to the sea,Each tradition a guiding star.Roots that bind yet set us free,Carrying us near and far.A celebration of life, a sacred vow,In every feast, in every word.My culture lives in the here and now,In every story yet to be heard.