for her <br />who looks most beautiful in red orna <br />i’m carrying the best wishes of those lilies <br />blooming on the iron-grill <br /> <br />When the blue-lotus is becoming more intense <br />within the rain pipe <br />i’ve lost the gate-pass of my earthly-birth <br /> <br />this world of secret inclinations and intentions <br />written in the letters of wild-jasmine <br /> <br />here to take a step <br />there is the ring-worms <br />to extend the hand <br />there is hydrophobia <br /> <br />so many nicknames for the boat-sinking <br />so many infiltrations <br /> <br />here the information from akrur catered much more <br />on the skin of masala-muri <br />than on the misti-dai <br />much more dance of the algebra <br /> <br />when by the hands <br />stolen from the sheep-herd <br />i’m sweeping the fallen leaves <br />it repeatedly comes to my mind today <br />that many market-price does not see me alive <br />even-then each powder-puff is scripting me <br />on the soap-water<br /><br />murari sinha<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lines-more-lunatic-than-the-sun-9/
