Happening?
you heave a sigh.
In peril, mother of peace?
Real threat
to ice lingam? the Creator?
Falling apart?
Cat’s claw was not healing.
Where the greens will go?
The pods, the seeds?
Tara, Tara!
come again,
we are waiting on the hills.
Glaciers were shrinking-
rivers are sad
and trees are weeping.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This sends me to the intenet to discover Buddha.