In the Bazaars of Hyderabad - Poem

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In the Bazaars of Hyderabad

What do you sell, O ye merchants?
Richly your wares are displayed.
Turbans of crimson and silver,
Tunics of purple brocade,
Mirror with panels of amber,
Daggers with handles of jade.

What do you weigh, O ye vendors?
Saffron and lentil and rice
What do you grind, O ye maidens?
Sandalwood, henna, and spice.
What do you call,, O ye peddlers?
Chessman and ivory dice.

What do you make, O ye goldsmiths?
Wristlets and anklets and ring,
Bells for the feet of blue pigeons
Frail as a dragonfly’s wing,
Girdles of gold for dancers,
Scabbards of gold for the king.

What do you cry, O ye fruitmen?
Citron, pomegranate, and plum.
What do you play, O ye magicians?
Spells for aeons to come.

What do you weave, O ye flowergirls
With tassels of azure and red?
Crowns for the brow of a bridegroom,
Chaplets to garland his bed,
Sheets of white blossoms new-garnered
To perfume the sleep of the dead.
- Sarojini Naidu

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