Chhath Festival Poem

In the golden hues of dawn’s soft light,

Rises a prayer pure and bright.

To Surya, the Sun, we humbly bow,

With faith as deep as the river’s flow.

At riverbanks and lakes they stand,

With fruits and lamps in every hand,

Fasting, waiting through the night,

To see the Sun, that giver of life.

Mothers, sisters, daughters pray,

Through sacred chants and songs they say,

"Grant us strength, and peace anew,

Bless our lives with fortune true."

With baskets full of nature's gifts,

They offer thanks as the daylight lifts.

In each diya's flickering glow,

Resides a faith that steady flows.

O Chhath Maiya, we call to you,

In the dawn and dusk, in skies so blue.

Guide our hearts and bless our lands,

With Sun’s warm light and gentle hands.

A festival of thanks, of love, of grace,

Chhath brings together time and place.

A ritual old, yet ever new,

In Sun’s warm light, we are born anew.