Beyond the hills where rivers wind,
Lies saffron gold, with scent refined.
The mountain air, both fresh and deep,Holds ancient secrets it will keep.
Kong Posh grows where shadows meet,
Where nature’s pulse and time compete.
In fields adorned with hues of red,
Dreams take root in every thread.
Beneath the sun’s soft golden touch,
Each flower blooms, its scent so much,
A whisper of the earth’s embrace,
Of generations who’ve left their trace.
In saffron’s red, the sunset lies,
A tapestry of distant skies.
Each strand holds stories yet untold,
Of fields that stretch in crimson gold.
From flower to flame, from earth to sun,
This spice of Kashmir—second to none.
It carries with it tales of yore,
Of perseverance, myths, and more.
In every bloom, a history grows,
In every petal, a tale flows.
The hands that toil, the hearts that bind,
Saffron’s warmth in their hearts enshrined.
Saffron Cottage, home of old,
Where generations guard the gold.
The family legacy runs deep,
Through fields where silence dares to sleep.
From one seed sown, a history blooms,
The heart of saffron fills each room.
A bond between the earth and sky,
Where heritage and hope shall fly.
Through the centuries, through thick and thin,
The saffron lives, it breathes, it spins.
A treasure found in every vein,
Kashmir’s legacy—untouched by rain.
With every sunrise, the petals rise,
In the embrace of Kashmir’s skies.
And in each stamen, pure and bright,
Lives a story of eternal light.