A dark fog wrapped itself around Lhasa as if it had been created by a phantom shade moving silently it became a snake relentless encircling our highest mountain
sunset signaled evening the wild wind cried Woo . . . woo . . . woo . . . life was twirling
nights became restless tragedy was everywhere my people were suffering tears were falling down . . . down . . . down . . . into the center of my heart
winds cried through the night . . . Woo . . . woo . . . woo . . . weeping . . . weeping . . . weeping . . . my life, my love, my poetry . . . smothered in tears my soul bleeds into the desert of painful reflection.