Woodman Poem by shafi sumodro

Ax and partly because of the aristocratic nose geothermal
History's history all the dust
Saturday deep sleep suddenly lost air.

Tree pond water touches remain apathetic, wretched memories bind
Music sounds bitter defeat us
I have the pulse of the overhang kankabati cloud, long tears
We were sleeping in the yard at night
It's the sound of wood broken away in the dark.

Enter a name inscribed on the chest and tree feller
Who has cheated death at the platter of rice.