Saturday, September 5, 2009

Ache Woeser La

A burning eye
of this black land, my sister,
the sun,
shines through her blue home,
The true heart for Tibet.

She is in her room, not allow to go,
and her tears like blue rains
over the white mountain

when she emerges, my sister,
the Wind carries her pure word
to give us the white flower
and eyes of invisible Tibet.

Oh! Snow flower, my sister,
opening in the March snow,
even if the red hailstorm falls,
she always blooms in my heart.

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