Today she reminisced about the era of her rule
When time furnished her the power to choose
The love and hate, acceptance and protest
Conquest and winning so easy to manifest
With bittersweet memories, fights and feats
Her entire aura dancing on her own heartbeats
The greed was fortifying, and the rage so magnetic
Eyes radiating shimmer, as if no-moon turned festive
She is the queen of the palace, call her Your Majesty
Bathing in enemies' gore; emerging as a demonic deity
The grandeur of the palace embodies her enduring grace
In each cry of the conch shell sound lies a hymn of her praise
Now though its winter now, moonlight consuming her spark
Not one morning goes by without cherishing battle scars
Her wars are legendary and her wounds a mystery
Every stone in the city has a mark of her victory.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem