The fiery bougainvillea cascades down The whitewashed walls of luxury hotels And on the roofs of plain adobe huts Burns in splendour challenging the sun. Festive trees are lit with brilliant hues Reaching towards the dome of heaven's skies. I have seen urns aglow with purple bracts Set against the silence of the sea In Puerta Vallarta and in Cozumel And Cuernavaca, the flower of Mexico, Spilling from tall trees in India Or on a mansion's entryway arranged In such a burst of brilliance no leaf was seen. The eye enthralled in rapture strove to hold. Those clouds of pink and gold and orange-red, If all the world should die from man's abuse I believe you, bougainvillea, would survive.
Poems Undated (1727)
Home
Disciples
Narad
Share your feedback. Help us improve. Or ask a question.