In Pakistan, the notes and tones of music are ever-present;
Music flows like streams,
Like a river of voices;
woven with dreams.

But what does it represent?

From the folk to the ghazal, and the qawwali’s call,
Every beat is a rhythm that touches us all  — 
A captivating shock that makes our music appall.

Whether in the busy markets of Karachi,
or the peaceful evenings of Islamabad,
Whenever the music is in hand —  
we are people engulfed.

It is the shriek of the winds that have prevailed from the time of creation.
The very winds that bear secrets;
Secrets that must not just be narrated, 
but whose loss must be mourned.

Cleansed from Sufi circles to interior city sounds, 
Our people say:
There is art in the same place where God lives.

Music to the Pakistanis is more than the melodious tunes  —  
it is the healing.

So, in every case, art too, is part of the nation,

It is the fraction where we carve our histories at the top of mountains, 
Or, at the very bottom of our Shalimar fountain.
Art and music here is unquestionable.

With the dancing rhythm from a minimum of eight instruments, 
we become one.

Art in this country makes our silent landscape speak volumes.
Whether images of our past, or dreams of achieving the future,
It holds the memories that transcend time. 
Here, there is life.

In every note, in every color, of every canvas —  
the core of this ancient land remains rife.