In the vined courtyard of tea and grass,
Sondha-sundori in jamdani's grace.
Eyes like clouds of dark monsoon,
Rooh-e-nupur tinkles upon her face.
She sits like a sculpture of oud's adore,
A regal queen, the Dilruba soine sohor.
Masked by the frames of golden hue,
Sipping her hookah, in velvety blue.
Ashiq of rang mashal, the heavens' pride,
The songs of old Iliad, Dacca's bride.
Silverstone and ivory, a riveting attire,
Dressed to perfection, a beauty to admire.
The lush garden, the marvelled floors,
Whisper a tale, Aangan-e-saaye doors.
Scent of jasmine intoxicates the air,
Every glance bespoke, all eyes to stare.
Sham e jainasheen, makhmal e noor,
A character carved from poetry itself.
Dazzling in the shines of bengal regime,
Forever entombed in the cluster of rhyme.