Everywhere on floor litter paper cups.
Stale smell of jasmine flowers linger on.
Lie scattered are crushed carnations of bouquets.
Foul sweaty air blows from air conditioners.
Staring at the podium were a sea of sultry faces,
Where they exchanged rings and garlands.
Masked countenances were many in crowd.
Dyed n supplemented whole body by makeup.
A heap of plastic chairs stacked waiting.
Glittering graffiti n golden strings fly around.
Leftovers dried on dining tables, awaits a wipe.
Black ants returns home on a beeline with a morsel
A solitary wick in brass lamp still holds a flame.
Masks fallen from faces of dignitaries glares in light,
Expressions and emotions in many die stumbling on it.
Flow of life continues by sheath of births n deaths.
Beating a retreat sun peeps in with feeble rays.
Cast off by bride, a bouquet lie in a corner.
Day ends, as priests bid farewell with a grin.
Bride and groom enters back from their rest room
Night rides in a chariot driven by horses of time.
Couple on a ride to reality gallop on many terrains
Shades of moonlit images reflect on their faces.
At the end of ride, they alight in crumpled skin.
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem