On i stado

elem, hvala ti puno.
puuuuno
za svaku reč o Z. V.

hvala tebi

Imam neku ideju, ali šta ti misliš?

hajde ja da se umesam

I mene je zbunilo....
I nisam imao nijednu ideju...
Samo osecaj... tog nekog mesta koje
je nigde...
ili je tamo gde da ga je AO osetio
da mozda jeste...

Mrzi me da guglujem pesnika,

Poet, completed his schooling from the prestigious Dr. Graham’s Homes in Kalimpong. In 1973 he left his teaching job at the Tibetan Children’s Village school to join the Tibetan resistance – then operating from Mustang, in western Nepal. Later he also worked at the Information and Publicity Office of H. H. the Dalai Lama (now the Department of Information and International Relations, DIIR). Gyalpo has now settled in Canada.


Evo je jos jedna njegova pesma...., o stadu:

My palatial penthouse has been occupied,
And my herds all scattered.
In my desolate paradise nuclear sludge
Simmers like a witches lethal potion.
Where are my Bas; yak-folds that contained
Tsampa bags, tea kettle and my humble dreams.
Where are the words to melancholic strains?
I chorused with the cold tundra winds?

In a perpetual trance I’ve been flung
Far from my familiar ambiance
Across the great oceans, from Tibet
To Canada’s snow cloaked spaces.
Worlds apart, scared Zen dreams crumble
Wind whipped ashes in ember less hearth,
Like cold emotionless faces on the subway;
And the butter lamp lies empty on the mantel!

Beneath maple leaves and turquoise rooftops,
Steel yaks belch poison fumes;
These hoof less forms seize spare spaces
Hurtle through the milieu of lost time.
They cannot feed or clothe you;
Frigid icons adorned with superficial motifs
And worshipped like gods on emerald plains.

The yak in High Park snorts at his small harem;
His quintessence locked in a few square yards.
Beneath his shaggy complacency lie somber thoughts.
But for now he must bear the insults,
And be called a cow by an innocent stranger.
Is it only I that hear his summer song?
"I am not a creature of enclosed spaces,
I am the invincible spirit of the Changthang".

Like my herds I have become stateless.
The bonds forged on barren meadows
Lie shattered on hard concrete floors;
Will we ever return to those sweet pastures?
Deep in the highlands where we sang
Melancholic summer songs once more!
Will the sun shine once more on emerald plains?

30 August 2004