Dancers

While we basked in the rays of the moonlight

and listened to the tumtum of the talking drum

you indeed seemed to speak to us

your feet and hips entertained us

Oh lovely dancers of my motherland

adored with beads and fanciful headgear

forget not we your wrappers and colorful attires

all my childhood I had watched you stepping to steps

I am in awe of your grace as you glide and slide along to the beat of the

the drums and Gangan

Oh lovely dancers of my motherland

my motherland adores you

and even though some might ignore you

to me, you will always remain

in the innermost corner of my memory

but alas as the modern replaces the old

and as the world transitions

no longer do you dance in the moonlight

oh dancer of my motherland

the people who still remain

from that memory that seems so far in the past

dead, barely alive and kicking, or forgotten

are all reminded of your endless grace

nostalgia grips them at the sound of the drums

and while they are reminded of your compelling dance

oh dancer of my motherland

do you also dream of performing too?

or are you like your sacred dance dead forever?

even as my memories betray me

and as the sound of the talking drum fades from my mind

I look up at the moon

the only thing which brings you to my remembrance

I smile for I know

the moonlight will always keep your memory