In the circle of the open field, they gather round,Feet tapping to the rhythm, a universal sound.Hands join in unity, a silent tale they weave,In every step and turn, the soul finds reprieve.Under the moon’s soft glow, a fire’s gentle light,Shadows dance and flicker, painting stories of the night.With every twirl and leap, the past and present meet,In the dance of the folk, life finds its beat.The elders’ eyes watch closely, wisdom in their gaze,As young ones learn the patterns, lost in the dance’s maze.The music of the ancients, carried on the breeze,Echoes through the valley, among the whispering trees.From village heart to mountain peak, the tales are spun,In the language of the body, beneath the setting sun.Folk dance, a bridge of time, connecting old and new,A celebration of life, in every step and hue.