Once I had a home / A paradise called Sun City Lhasa / Once I knew a peaceful moon and blue sky
I miss Lhasa where / The undulating valleys and wide open plains / Are bedecked with a garland of green meadows and trees,
He did not keep silent because of fear, on the contrary, he was willing to allow me to record and make public his experience full of fear. Why?
They came to clean the streets, and what they wiped out were us Tibetans, because we are garbage in their eyes.
When I googled “Dreaming Lhasa” in Chinese, most entries were advertisements for a trip called “Dreaming Lhasa” sponsored by travel agencies all over China.
Poem by Tsoltim N Shakabpa: Run, Run, The Ones Who Run / Run from God’s Earth
Memories by Lodey Lhawang, mother of Jamyang Norbu, of the great scholar and poet Gedun Choephel.
The revival of Lhamo (Tibetan opera) in exile Tibetan society, and a history of the Tibetan Institute of Performing Arts.
A dark fog / wrapped itself around Lhasa
The train arrives, a mammoth of shadow, / A dark and slow-moving train;
Lhasa is no longer the land of happiness and purity, the land of prosperity and sanctity. Who knows who its future will depend on? Where, exactly, is the hope of its future?
Majestic peaks, crowned with eternal snow / swaying in the blue heavens.
The Potala has never been, with the changing of time and space, so colourful, so odd, and even helpless and sad, as it has been during this half century.