A Monk and the Mist

Dharamshala, a monk and the mist

ལ་ལུང་སྨུག་པས་སྒྲིབ་ཀྱང་། །

ལམ་སྣེ་འཇུ་རོགས་གནང་ན། །

ལུང་པའི་ཕུ་མདའ་བརྒྱུད་དེ། །

ལ་མོ་བརྒལ་ནས་སླེབས་ཡོང་། །


Though valleys and mountains are covered in mist,
If you help me find the path’s start,
I’ll journey through the valley’s heights and depths,
And crossing the pass, I’ll surely arrive.

By Sonsnow

མིག་ཆུ། Tears

Namkyi, a former political prisoner, sheds tears as she speaks of the torture she endured under Chinese repressive rule.

Tears,

They have shed tears for too long,

If they were a glacier, it would eventually dry up one day.

The warmth of heart will wither away,

If they were a river, one day their flow would cease,

And hope would wither away, like a fading breeze.

If they were an ocean, even its vastness would turn into a dunes,

And happiness’s smile would set, like the sun in a distant land.

Tears are mere droplets, a symbol of our deepest longing,

But they cannot quench our thirst,

nor ease our heart’s tormenting.

Tears alone cannot sustain us,

nor can they quench the fire within.

Even our heart aches within

For the freedom we seek, let us march forward, undaunted and unbroken,

until we claim our victory.

By Sonsnow

ཁུ་བྱུག་དང་ཕ་ཡུལ།

དྲན་ཐོ།

ཁུ་དབྱུག་དཔྱིད་ཀྱི་རྒྱལ་མོའི།

དཔྱིད་དཔལ་བསུ་བའི་གསུང་སྙན།

གཞན་ཡུལ་ས་མཐར་གྲགས་པའི།

བདག་བློ་ཁྱུང་བྱའི་སྙིང་ཁ།

དྲན་གདུང་གླིང་སུ་བརྫངས་སོང་།

ཕ་བཟང་བུ་ནས།

When the cuckoo bird sings its spring songs, 

Heard loud and clear across distant lands, 

My heart, like the Chung bird’s, 

Suffers the weight of homesickness, 

My spirit, still longs the distant homeland. 

By Sonsnow

Our Planet

“Taking care of our planet, is a matter of looking after our own home. We can no longer exploit the earth’s resources—the trees, water, air and minerals—with no care for the coming generations. I support young people’s protests at governments’ inaction over the climate crisis.”

His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama