Baskadia

In the heart of Africa's ancient land,
Where the rhythms of life take their stand,
Drums echo through time, both near and far,
Telling stories of joy, sorrow, and freedom's star.

Rhythms of freedom in each beat they find,
A cultural tapestry, intertwined,
In the heart of the village, by the fire's warm light,
Drums speak of battles fought, of struggles and might.

Underneath the starry African skies,
Drums lift spirits and make hearts arise,
With every resounding, thunderous pound,
They echo the history, the roots, the profound.

When joy fills the air, and the dance begins,
The drums sing of happiness, release from within,
Feet stomp to the beat, hands clap in delight,
A celebration of life, under the moon's soft light.

But when sorrow descends, like a heavy rain,
The drums share the grief, the heartache, the pain,
In their somber cadence, they mourn and lament,
A collective voice for the tears that are spent.

Yet, it's in freedom's name, they truly shine,
With every strike, they tell a story, so divine,
From the days of oppression, to battles hard-won,
African drums declare, "our fight is never done."

In the rhythm's embrace, they find their voice,
A call to unity, a reason to rejoice,
They teach us that even in life's darkest hours,
There's strength in our hearts, and in our cultural powers.

So let us listen closely to the drums' ancient song,
As they've guided us through history, so strong,
In their beats, we discover the essence of life,
In the rhythms of freedom, we banish all strife.

For Africa's drums are more than just sound,
They're a heartbeat, a lifeline, profound,
Expressing the joy, the sorrow, the fight,
In the dance of existence, they bring us the light.