Dalai Lama



Over the eastern hills,
Rising the shining moon;
The face of the maiden,
Is forming in my mind.

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Green shoots sown just last year,
Are this year but dry thatch;
Aged, the body of youth,
Bent stiffer than a bow.

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If the one whom I love,
Could be mine forever;
This one joy will compare,
Gems from the ocean’s depth!

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Sweetheart of the wayside,
Though fair and sweet-scented;
Like a faulty turquoise,
Was found but cast away!
 

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Set not thy heart upon,
Daughters of the mighty;
Like peaches on tall trees,
Ripen beyond your reach.
 

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When love doth steal the heart,
Sleepless are the long nights;
Heartache follows the day,
That brings not the loved one.

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When transient flowers fade,
Mourn not, thou turquoise bee;
When transient love doth wane,
That is no cause to mourn.
 

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Cold frost on the flowers,
Agent of the north wind;
Is here to tear apart,
The flower and the bee.