My eyes are blinded as I look
at this gleaming white monument
of love. Its corroded-white
marbles, enclosing tenements
of death, shine bright
in this summer sun.

It enchantingly blinds one
and all:
a majestic show of human power
and capabilities;
a hallmark of human creations; a wonder of human achievements.

This portrayal of beauty at which they all awe:
this display of love which draws
lovers from around the world,
inspires them by its white mask.

But as I inch closer, the bubbles of excitement
stop boiling within me; my eyes are not blinded any more.
Its white-marbled façade
reveals its monumental love
which tortured the twenty thousand thumbs
of its creators.

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[For those who are not apprised of the historical fact, here it is: Shah Jahan, who built the Taj Mahal as a symbol of love for his wife, got the thumbs of all the twenty thousand labourers and the architects cut off after the job was finished. The reason? So that they aren't able to replicate it.]