Indian Weavers Poem by Sarojini Naidu
Indian Weavers
WEAVERS, weaving at break of day,
Why do you weave a garment so gay? . . .
Blue as the wing of a halcyon wild,
We weave the robes of a new-born child.
Weavers, weaving at fall of night,
Why do you weave a garment so bright? . . .
Like the plumes of a peacock, purple and green,
We weave the marriage-veils of a queen.
Weavers, weaving solemn and still,
What do you weave in the moonlight chill? . . .
White as a feather and white as a cloud,
We weave a dead man's funeral shroud.
The poem about Indian weavers, they weav all things for Indian people to wear, we can read here that India is self-supporting in their own clothes. Very fascinating poem
The artistry and skill involved in the process of weaving along with the hard toil is enlivened by the variety of occasions there importance can be related with. All the stages of life from birth to death are intermingled with the occupation of weaving.
I love this poem.I even won a poetry competition in my school today 08-09-2020
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/26/2022 4:37:25 AM # 1.0.0.966
The simple act of weaving connects our life from birth to death, without clothing, we humans are reduced to the pre-human state. The poetess has expressed this importance of the weaver in our lives quite simply and eloquently.