Posted by Vartika Kumari at July 14, 2021
Weavers, weaving at break of day,
Why do you weave a garment so say?
Blue as the wing of a halcyon wind,
We weave the robes of a new born child.
Weavers, weaving at fall of night,
Why do you weave a garment so bright?….
Like the plumes of a peacock, purple and green,
We weave the marriage – veils of queen.
Weavers, weaving solemn and still,
What do you weave in the moonlight chill?….
White as a feather and white as a cloud,
We weave a dead man’s funeral shroud.