attan is one thing all Afghan's adore
The sound of the dhol's rhythmic beat
calls them to form a line to meet
With a graceful flick of the leader's wrist
in unison their bodies turn and twist
Round and round they all begin to go
putting on a spectacular show
Turning and turning in a circle they dance
almost as if in a mystical trance
Faster and faster they start to twist and turn
as sweat pours, hands clap and feet burn
Louder and faster the Attan beat grows
the last one standing nobody knows
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