Verse 1 Night folds soft over paddy fields, lanterns in a slow parade, Feet remember ancient paths where ancestors once prayed. Low drum hums beneath the breath, a ribbon of warm smoke, Calloused palms and open hearts — the village wakes and spoke.

Line to close softly Let the last ring linger — then the village turns to new.

Verse 2 Women tie the jasmine white, scent like rain on dust, Children chase the crescents of a lantern’s gentle gust. Elders nod and mark the time with rhythm slow and round, Each strike a tether to the past, each ring a sacred sound.

Bridge Between the temple and the road, between the river’s sigh, The urumi weaves a corridor of stars across the sky. A call to hands that tremble, to feet that keep the beat, To stories passed in candlelight where hearts and memories meet.

Interlude (spoken or chanted) Hear the slow, deep whisper—kattai, adai, korvai— One breath, two breaths, the circle turns; we feel the old and new.

Chorus Urumi, speak the stories under moon and banyan shade, Let the iron ribbon tremble, let the heartbeat not fade. Melam rising, voices joining — simple, fierce, and true, Thanjavur nights remember everything we do.