The Princess Who Bathed Poem by Ashwath Islampure

The pretty princess comes out of her bath-
rejuvenating her royal blooded body,
covering it with a royal towel,
recitings of hymns in a prosody,
Several sprigs of Gulmohar lay in her bath
floating upon the waters for a long time,
get twisted after a while, letting beauty go,
her eyes observing it like a mime,
the bath is over to an extent
the temple looks gloomy,
she walks for her palace standing in midst,
witnessing the march of her army,
then to listen the melodies of court Mozart
with a minute inch of terror in it.