The country where pride withholds;
Where history remains to be unfold.
From the heaven of the mountain land,
to the tranquility of the silent sand.
From rich and poor, young and old:
this is the land of pure gold.
Those sparkling colors, its boast,
darkness and dread resembles the ghost.
Where integrity matters the most,
cast or religion but human is foremost.
From the first ray of the morning sun:
to the days in front.
We are awoken by the dawn;
‘Cause now the fear is long gone.
For we are its children
its heritage lies in its civilians.
This is the land we call our own,
A place we call our home.
For to treasure it is our duty,
In the mystery of its distinctiveness lies its beauty.
- Anika Butail
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