In the heart of Kolkata lies the palatial palace of the redcoats
The centre of architecture served as the residence of the empress of India
The weapons of war, antique jewellery, charismatic gowns and magnificent paintings gleam with pride
The sharp eyes of the queen catch everything around her as she sits on her throne and is ready to accept the crown
Carved is the coast of arms and the last supper in the abode of the angels
Spacious corridors, stained glass windows, classic architecture, lush green gardens form this cognisant seraglio
The crows and Robbins are her messenger or maybe even the prima donna in disguise
And every morning the angel of the sun turns around and announces the beginning of a newfangled day
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Dear Mantrana, such an interesting write...10+++
Thank you once again Mr.Asuncion. I really like your poems and I honoured by getting such a positive response from you