Monday, November 17, 2008

T Erdenetsogt


I’ll look away, though
the power of mind
will not bridle my look.

I’ll hide my love, though
the power of mind
will not tether my love.

I’ll protect my words, though
the power of mind
will not rein in my words.

I’ll speak the truth, though
the power of actions
will not whip my mind.

10 x 05


Let my small sadness send a bird to you.
Let my weak mind make a necklace of wild flowers.
Let my own heart bring tears to my lover’s gaze.
Let me carve strange words in gold and whisper them in your ear.

Love’s red rose,
my bright and royal destiny.
Please protect my desire,
swim in my deep joy.

Let me give to the birds of spring the leaves which fell in autumn.
Let me please with love’s wine the woman who has touched me.
Let me take in my hands the flowers of August for March,
my love, send to me those words I am hoping for.

Love’s red rose,
my bright and royal destiny.
Please proceed, my angel,
into the pure temple of memory.

Though covered by a bright parasol, let me kiss your lips.
Please think that these joys of today will be eternal.
I shall take and caress your delicate hands,
my love, and in days to come let us welcome the sun.


A person it is who goes up to heaven.
A feather it is which sinks into the sea.
A dream it is which covets gold.
A wish it is which takes shelter amid life.

A woman it is who sinks into the flowers.
A picture it is which overnights within the mind.
A word it is which journeys on the wind.
A song it is which emerges from thought.

A person it is who becomes a buddha.
A wish it is which is wealth from grain.
A bird it is which lives upon the land.
A memory it is which withers not, nor grows old.

11 vii 99


Someone else,
someone other than me, is
going in another direction, is
thinking of someone else, is
looking somewhere else, is
planning something else.
Someone else,
someone other than me.

I fight with someone else,
I make peace with someone else,
I protect someone else from another,
I tell lies about someone else to others,
I make requests of someone else,
I am distressed, can barely look at someone else,
I feel their pain, I take care of them.
Someone else,
someone other than me.

9 x 00

Ts Bavuudorj

for the Taiwanese poet Yu Hsi

Grass, growing in the east
in yellow waves, and
kneeling and bowing
for so long
to the exalted east.
I place my aching head
upon its warm breast.
It strokes my brow
with its yellowing fingers,
my tears falling thicker and thicker,
covering the silksoft lichen.
An inner suffering
rides upon waves
into the east,
marking my warm body,
and grasshoppers flock
into the silent aeons,
dispersing the light
at the final moment of rest…
And for some time yet to come,
its face unchanging
in golden waves, there will be
grass, growing in the east.



To touch the silvern collar
of the beauty, dozing,
was my eternal desire,
and my own silver verses
lit the way like a candle.
My own dear love herself
had fashioned the portentous evening moon,
and, moved by the moment,
I offered a joyful candle,
an ancient prayer, to the Buddha,
while silence filled the spaces
between joyful leaves.
But still more desires
pain the shameless vagrant…
I touch the silvern neck
of the beauty, dozing,
but my eternal desire stays unfulfilled.
I touch her lips…