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Showing posts from 2012

Ten Visual Poems are selected in 2012

I Hold My Candle

photo by  Mune Tsang

I Hold My Candle
Wednesday 26 December 2007, 
Silent foreboding behind prison’s door
shadows of the willow scatter across your pillow
rivers of tears do not wash away the darkness
I hold my candle to shine Light on your soul
City’s haze blankets your high plateau
foggy mind allows clouded thought
love seems to have forsaken you
I hold my candle to shine light on your soul
Thieves lurk about your vessel at night
invisible pain ravages your heart
suffocating breath vessel of a depleted spirit
I hold my candle to shine light on your soul

My work is my shadow

"Shadow Work is a way to explore the inner landscape and discover the gold that is hiding in the shadows. It is a way to become more and more who we really are. Shadow Work is a way to face the hurt, the fear, the anger, and learn how to live more fully. Most of all, it is a way to love ourselves for the journeys we have chosen."---Jayanta Adak

Blue Mountain man


They are Gone, Gone with the Fire

They are gone , Gone with the fire

My brothers, my sisters
My compatriots are gone
Every time, I heard a crying in the flames 
Whenever and saw the body of flames 
The clip-clop of horse on the silent grassland.
How heavy is !, how sad Is !
At the moment, with a melodious mantra
Sing my lament: unforgettable , not be forgotten
Traces of life in snowy flames

they are gone, they are gone
A life turned into flames
To Warm this desolate plateau
I cannot write down, mourning -
Tingling bone marrow, it is difficult to use
human language
Described the pain of boiling in the fire of truth

Lit a butter lamp, calling you 
As they for snow land
Offering one’s life 
Unforgettable , cannot forget
Traces of life in snowy flames

In Tibetan 

ཕྱིན་སོང མེ་ལྕེ་འགྲོགས་ནས་ཕྱིན་སོང

I Remember...

Photo by friend Yangtara
"I remember
As I feel isolated from Tibet
The conquests that were made in fury
When roads were battered
Into darknessI remember
This horrific

With the passing years
Houses have been mended
Yet, the scent of intense gunpowder
Runs in rivers through my veins

Daylight was turned to dusk
And lives were destroyed, great suffering
One wall was left standing of my home
Lonely, it was, no longer whole

Buddha, ravaged at the alter
Broken in pieces on the ground
Intended to tear at my faith
Yet, dedication and prayerfulness
Was not destroyed in the heart of me
Buddha lives
I shall Survive

From my poem

self immolations in Tibet


white star

Last night, the wakeful ether, half- dark, half- blue. I moved to and fro within dark blue heart and my sleepless hands through the heavy air to try to catch those illuminations Of white stars And my eyes were Half -closed, half- opened --- I could not shutdown my mind last night.

Sky Burial : my death is my rebirth!

I draw The Highway to the Heaven beneath the shade of Hell

The visual Poem

སྲུང་འཁོར་འདི་ངའི་སྐེ་ལ་གྱོན་ནས ངག་གི་སྒྲུབ་པ་མཐུག་པོའི་ཕ་རོལ་དུ གོམ་པ་རེར་སྤོས་སྐབས ... ཚོར་པ་རྣོ་བོ་ཞིག་གི་བྲང་སྲུབ་ན དམར་ལྷེམ་མར་འཁྱུལ

ཁེར་རྐྱང་གི་ཟུར་ན་ ཨ་མའི་སྐད་ངག་དང
སྐྱོ་གདུང་གིས་མནར་པའི་ངས གཞན་གྱི་མུན་པ་འོག་ནས

སྐབས་འདིར་ ངས་ཁྱེད་ཀྱི་དུང་བ་ རང་ཉིད་ཀྱི་སྐེ་ལ་གོན་ནས
འཇིག་རྟེན་ཧྲིལ་པོ་འདིའི་སྟེང་དུ་ རྐང་རྗེས་ཆུང་ཆུང་ཞིག་གི


I wear this wisdom of necklace
And walkin
through the heavy mist of speech
from the bottom of my heart
arise the reddish blood

in the corner of desolation , mother tongue
and the song of beloved –almost dying
I am despair- under other]s dark shadow
for you –distance expression: I am standing
my ground and wont give in!

I wear your love on my miserable neck
And tread on this earth
to leave my footprints behind

Come , The Spring

A thought related with Rebkong Self Immolation

< A thought related with Rebkong Self Immolation>

I heard, my mother went to Rebkong

As pilgrim, I knew that she visited Kumbum monastery

I also heard, she attended a Buddhist teaching there

But Today Morning, I hear a monk in fire

... And his yellow robe caught the fire

And his life set on the fire

Shall I extinguish the fire of life?

Morning sun goes under my pillow

I see the painful death, burning bodies

I start to cry, the miserable blanket wrapped me

My people are dying , my mother is crying :

Lama Chen , blessing my people , set them free

from suffering

The Long March Back Home- Tibet


If the world is my body, I burn The body of world, I am fire Of truth, my people said If the world is my mirror, I see Not myself, I am not I am Breathing in under the mask of world If the world is my reality, I read The suffering my people,  But you don’t know how blind this world is This real world of us, too blind to us-Tibet I wish I were the fire of this world To burn all eye of your black heart Let you see through my mirror The painful human, my people in Tibet Take off your mask, show me your real face

Losar- Water Dargon Year

Losar ལོ་གསར

–Water Dargon year ཆུ་འབྲུག་ལོའི་ ལོ་ གསར

The butter lamps Of suffering
Illumine your sorrowful soul
From the land of snow
my words with
inauspicious thundering’s shook heaven

the fire of pain
burning through this night
the night of darkness
death is rebirth
reborn the spirit of mountain
from the bottom of ocean

my songs of Tashi Delek
waved through the depth of ocean-
wisdom with compassion
surely arise over the eastern sky

but the countless misery
of life at home
on this earth
I believe
“we shall over come”
one day
I hold your hands infront of potala
Sing a song
Tashi lolek –Happy New year.


མཚན་མོ་འདིར་ གདུང་ སེམས་་ཀྱི་་མེ་ལྕེ་ཡིས

བཀྲིས་བདེ་ལེགས་ཀྱི་ རྦ་རླབས

ས་སྒང་འདིར་ གངས་ཅན་པས
བདག་གིས་ རེ་སྨོན་ལ

She -Acha Woeser La

She –acha woeser la
In the cold beijing morning She would be arrested in her small house By the cold snow mixed rain at  the heart of china(Beijing) –far away her home.(Tibet)
I heard her voices through wind I should open widely my window Allow the wind carried her word A word of truth and justice
She –my sister, a tearful sister Even in the winter, she could endure The frozen icy Beijing cold wind and Facing the jeopardy to tell reality
My sister, acha woeser la She is true flower , every March Opening her brave or beautiful flower And give us a beautiful free word Let Tibetan free, let Tibetan free.
她- 阿佳唯色啦

在远离她的家乡(图博特) 在中国的心脏(北京),在在她的小房子里, 她会被一阵凄凉雪夹雨 逮捕


阿佳唯色啦,她是真理的花朵, 每年三月,盛开

The Last Night Song

The Last Night song

Again , in a night
The devilish dream held me 
In their arm and
A restless heart
Wandering in Bardo*

Again ,in one corner of sadness
Breathing life of night
In the eye of beauty
Saw the traceless pain

Again, in a darkness
Rising my hand
To hold a wound-
The last remaining history

Again, a sadness line
With beautiful melody
With sorrowful word
To create the last night song
Note: * The Tibetan word Bardo means literally "intermediate state" - also translated as "transitional state" or "in-between state".