they lived together wandering in the world
traveling, not knowing how to share
i think to myself
how things pass by me unnoticed
they sit in front of me …beggin me something
with blurry eyes, confused
i prefer to listen
the sound that comes from the little flags hanging
they are singing
they are praying
as the wind comes through them
A Tibetan Tradition……
Love, love, peace, peace
in home again…someone fingering on the piano
as the rain comes down and freeze the hearts
in that warm Tibetan house
so sad and just me …ready to hear
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful............................................