No one came to the moon at night,
and
no one moved to the door, and no one came to the door, and no one was too tight
- the
house - the house of the sparrow bird.
Ishaat warm mother's lap;
I am
learning a child's daily routine ; The
bird's father's identity is
like the shadow of the leaves.
you have no air
in the lap of the gods messenger --- to sleep
in the open staircase harem
face stained cream
run air bike
's rice early retirement
balcony karnise
white inkjet legs
off the noon sun ROSH
Kumkum people began in the afternoon
of the shooting at stake
bhasaya yolk-colored leaves
of the night, going beyond the
dole morning, Hal
's Eve season
opened butamera al-shirt
Trembles blind fig trase
botaya son, mourning the
still missing napkins Development
at the grass stirs
rushing maternal fish
breaking waves bolt
bad Sun
hand line of the dark new moon
aquatic akhar is clear
where the magnifying rendering
ujaya during the whole of the new water
sprinkling fish, and season
your amsate Shan bamti
my is neck kisses
Kamini flowers at the stone
talk kakana wearing a night
of drunken bedhaka returning
to the intoxication of musk ---
the woman working the night ---
--- who mourn neon spread
out domestic mehaphile ---
Who sorghum masahura players
were damp plaster
your finger tap is
smashing the walls of the cupboard
you intransigent hammer
The world terracotta
, wood, coal surprise ---
how burning Lanes
a dusk gamaka keeps
bad - the new name
on the chest - Kato doubt
my dying under
another identity,
no one sees, and her
father, and like the
end of the rainy kind of thing
did not --- The eye moved.