As a bride bedecked art thou, my Goa.
On thy vermilion lips I see the red, red earth;
The dazzling white Dudhsagar Fall is the moghra chaplet
in the knot of thy hair;
The domes of the temples are thy diadem,
And all the churches are the cunning pattern of thy bodice.
Those dimples in thy cheek are the Tiswadi islets;
Thou hast bound the Zuari river as a bright silver girdle about
thy waist,
And the Mandovi is a river of gold around thy neck.
As a bride bedecked art thou, my Goa.
Thou wearest a garment of bright green fields,
And golden rice-ears are the gay filigree border thereof;
Thou hast put on a necklace of mango and cashew fruit,
And jackfruits are the golden keystones thereof;
Thy betel palms are as clasps upon thy ear-tips,
And the betel bunches as earrings in thy lobes;
The waving flowers in thy hair are coco palms that form a crest
for thee,
O my Goa thou art like a bride bedecked.
The lakes and ponds cause thy fingers to glow as with jewels,
And the flowering trees that bloom on every side, are the sweet
garlands about thy neck.
And the Agoada Fortress, the grim Fortress—what is that to thee?
The red kumkum on thy brow, that spells thy fate—
‘Tis the blood of heroes who died for Freedom on the shores of
Agoada.
Truly thou art a bride bedecked,
A bride bedecked, my Goa.
Translated from the Konkani by Thomas Gay