Mangoes the pulp

Mangoes the pulp of this season,
Fruits otherwise not in that visibility,
Scent the roots of their flora,
In this summer season

You know not the growth pattern,
Of these lively fantasies,
Here old men and a child,
Grape the fruits, allured by wine of the season

Marketed with immense pomp,
These live unbeaten in hearts of people,
In luster of taste, and purity of the gifts of nature.

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