A garden of marigolds....orange, yellow and rust,
Bright, soft and rich, touched with golden dust.
Quiet and regal, sun kissed and fair,
Basil-citrus fragrance that mellows the moist air.
A thousand smiling marigolds, a thousand smiling suns,
Sweet nectar, ambrosia, for nature's gentle ones.
Woven into garlands, yellow with tips of red,
Woven into memories with many a words unsaid.
Love's hopes of an Indian bride, clad with marigold,
With dreams wrought 'n promises, her heart dearly holds.
Tearful farewells to soldiers, who traverse through destiny's doors.
A garland weaved with love for those, from across the seven shores.
And when the body is but a thought, as life grays and olds
Wrapped in a hearse of love, their love, with weeping marigolds.
An offering so humble, yet flowers a Goddess wears,
Auguring celebrations, with a soul's heartfelt prayers.
Orange, yellow, rust..to love, to pray, to mourn,
Golden, sun kissed, blessed.. marigolds that life adorns.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nishu, very nice, when I read you poem, it brought back memories of my mother and her love of flowers.