In the whispers of the ancient winds,
Stories of old are softly spun,
Carried through time by elders’ kin,
A tapestry woven, never undone.

Underneath the starlit skies,
Traditions bloom in vibrant hues,
Dances that echo with joyous cries,
In every step, my roots renew.

The aroma of spices fills the air,
A symphony of flavors, rich and deep,
Each dish a tale of love and care,
Nourishing the soul, memories to keep.

Within the folds of our woven cloth,
Symbols of unity and pride reside,
With every thread, a silent oath,
To honor the past, with eyes open wide.