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Where Tibetans Write

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Poems

Latest addition : 16 June 2014.

Poems written by Tibetans

This section's articles

  • Just You and Me

    8 January 2008, by Tsoltim N. Shakabpa

    Just you and me and the starlit skies Linked in silver chains and crowned with glory Dancing among warm breezes on summer nights Softly stealing the glistening moonlight And whispering secret thoughts That lie beneath our magical minds My lady fair! My love sweet! If it were just you and me How blessed and happy we would be Entwined in ambrosial harmony and destined to share Nature’s wondrous gift and God’s eternal embrace But just you and me is not to be From under dark skies and (...)

  • Defeated, But Never Cried

    28 December 2007, by The XVII Karmapa

    Moon-like flowers, in the majestic medicinal land of snow, bubbles of joy now mounting up. Amidst the melancholic flute of a drizzle, in the arched drum of the rainbow blow the winds of truth chasing the clouds to the far north Ah… Now then, Flowers of our prayers in thousands bloom. The pain of our suffering slowly wanes as the south wind of solidarity blows. In the clear blue sky once again, flipping, flopping white clouds of joy start to dance. Hey, neither being rich, (...)

  • Lhasa Barkhor Song

    28 December 2007, by Gyalpo Tsering

    I rose in the morning hoping the sun will shine, The Barkhor filled with bright prospects Decked in their best, carrying incense; Trying to take a shortcut to nirvana - I have given up all hope of becoming a saint Living the life of a learned ascetic Pretending wisdom, knowledge - False powers, Tantric divination I gave up all to become a beggar in Barkhor To ease the pain of disappointment Lack of self control, and the tears - Losing a loved one is terribly hard. Now I am a (...)

  • Train from Beijing

    26 December 2007, by Kathup Tsering

    The train arrives, a mammoth of shadow, A dark and slow-moving train; Rushing high plateau, drills a hole Through mountain to the heart Of snow land, like a rage of dragon Under the blue sky, and then again Swallowing my home-Lhasa. See, Potala, engulfed in the darkness With the smoky vision And nightmares fever goes under my pillow. Black shadow comes down, luminous street lights Steal the butter lamp’s glow And hellish eyes watch for humble hearts to devour. Hotel and bar, (...)

  • The Art of China

    26 December 2007, by Tsoltim N. Shakabpa

    The Chinese have a way with art That comes not from the heart They paint Tibet to be a part of China And thus causes us to have an angina They paint Tibet with pictures misleading The truth by design they are impeding They paint Tibet as making progress When in fact Tibet is in regress They paint Tibetans as a happy people When in fact they are suffering and feeble The art of China is misleading While in fact Tibet they are bleeding The art of China is misleading In truth brain (...)

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