High-Yielding Verses

when this endless anchal of dhanekhali sari continues to make dip-swimming in the bottomless water of the paddy and if into the colour of her fore-finger enters repeatedly some whole-noons of the chot-boshekh and from the more depth of the ceiling-fan comes out the ordour of the open-hair of the village-orange then with that lac-saliva wouldn’t an easy pandel be constructed on the roof its water will be made begin as well that white cloud … that life of this concrete … beforehand to it … with a garland of flowers of the sun-plant around her neck… let her be seated on this branch of peepul branch… for once taking the warmth of the kites flown after having a thread-cut let the cows of man be productive by a few inch more