The Red Forehead
Yet the same voice that calls you
Calls me
To invoke the mountain gods
To tell the warriors’ tales
To be a bit more like you.
she whom i follow in my dreams
In my dreams, / we kissed atop a mountain
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The little one / walks through the cable, / black and stretched,
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Rubbing against stones and the cracks, / I stumbled inside a black hole, / The darkness aside,
Dremo
Pass not through the crooked path, / for it has the fangs awaiting you, / The blood shall suffice
Your Death
I saw your death yesterday in your fingers. / It was death like people had in the old days.
Waterfall: An Epilogue
For you who wrote about the promise of waterfall / Who freed my spirit with the force of language
Tibetan Nights
The only thing that breathes is the sound of engine / Relentless in its climb against the steep rugged pass
Once I had a Home
Once I had a home / A paradise called Sun City Lhasa / Once I knew a peaceful moon and blue sky
To You from Exile
Since no cranes are left / I can only send my / Message with the winds; …
On the Wing
’… … to Lithang and back’ / That’s what he said
Nomad III Revisited
He slowly gathers up his shaggy herd / To prepares them for the lowlands,
If I Die
If I die my dear ones / Don’t cry for me / For I never cried for anyone
I wish to be Buddha
You are nothing but everything / So simple yet so complicated
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I am just a soul in a fixed / Crying for the right direction / My mind is so mixed
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when they call me / by a quarter / of the name i was given / by my lama,
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teach me how to be / gesar’s daughter: / fierce / warrior-like / firm in the war for truth
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mother, i have / inherited / your hands. / each wrinkle speaks
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the chang tastes just like the one / your grandma makes every winter before she leaves / for dorje-den and varanasi,
Exile
Exile / is a marigold / blushing luxuriantly