Today as i sit below a statue of gold,
Colour of a Buddha's adorning.
I watch the sky change shades.
Lightest blue to the lightest pink.
Now a cold wind is blowing,
And the prayer flags are soaring.
Everything in rhythm with the song playing.
The wind, rustling leaves, the flags swaying.
For now a cold wind is blowing,
And the prayer flags are soaring.
Prayers of hope, prayers of peace,
Prayers of love or needs beneath.
Will they be heard? Answered will they be?
For reasons unknown, reasons unseen,
Strange things will happen,
For answers we seek.
A cold wind is blowing,
And the prayer flags are soaring.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem