On a full-moon night, Taj bathes bare with immortal grace in the cool serene waters softly shining, like a moonlit dream carved in white grandeur.
Marbled mausoleum gathers dust of endless love of Mughal imperial lovers and sweet scent of sleeping jasmines lingers on the calligraphed graves while pearly dew drops caress the majestic marvel, in misty opaque twilight.
When night sings lullaby, and moon sleeps on pillow of cushiony-clouds monument of unparalleled love guarded by the emerald-green groves, pruned so meticulously sheds pristine tear drops on the weathered pages of history.
Sometimes, on a serene crescent-moon night marble-white ghosts with countless unknown and un-honored hands that chiseled and shaped this 'dream in marble', tread on verdant regal lawns and sobs from their wandering souls echo from the arches and alcoves of the sepulcher of love's memorial, and Taj's shimmering reflection scatters in bloody fragments in the ripples of polluted waters of Yamuna'
