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6.	
I pierced the clouds with my fore-finger
And the blood-stain touches my body 
the wind which makes the doors and windows 
open to public view I can’t stare at its eyes
I push the storm towards the yellow-leaves

7. 
sometimes the river calls 
as if she will fly like the winged horse 
if she be let loosed 
where  does she keep the sadness of her placenta
there is no flower-vase 
the glass is good enough 	
though the lover glass has broken with the first kiss 
the grass with aromatic roots trembles in the breeze from the candid wings  
the orna flies tearing the caterpillar 
would you let your  salted water be wasted 

8. 
beside the comb there is hair
Is it soft green or the alkaline
How much relevant is that information
Rowing through which water the endemic comes
The afternoon-cloud giggled took permission and went home 
bringing an end to today’s play 
the unwashed plates after eating are placed on the basin 
the night-cigarette goes burning in the mouth of air
on the coughs and expectoration floats the lost mast  

9. 
the sands are shy to the extreme
They don’t loot anything 
The bricks have much intimacy with the wild creepers
All the komonduls and lances  turned backward
Now you may easily spread your wet cloth in the air
One roof would have dialogues with another in the lost afternoon
One window have eye-sharing with the another

10. 
there is the laugh 
100% natural
Beauty is written on the eyebrows 
that is also a game 
new cloths at the time of puja 
that is also an addiction 
a hidden bunglow 
under the tongue 
no information of death

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