The dying world at the corridor lies
The perfume of aroma spreads
The fluttering Burigangya wails
With a voice full of lamentations.
Waiting my beloved mother for me,
Prepared taste hotchpot, pea, mutton and various vegetables,
Impatient Heat of Poem
When, where, how to get acquainted with poetry
The percel of death
It was a dark night on 17th November!
When She Came
It was the mid-Khartik.
I don't know if it is an incorporeal soul
Poetry! You don't know
When the paths do not smell human shoes
Sleep alone with the ointment of the sun on its chest
Vile creatures never took the ease of it's body