Anthology of Tibetan Poets


Tenzing Rigdol


In the Beginning

Poets turn into beggars
As their words scatter before your feet like bitten nails
No language does justice to your beauty
And I too humbly accept my defeat


Your moist eyes
That never sipped life's bitter side,
Manages to stir my decanted mind,
Leaving me alone in a thought-tide.

In Being

Your body is calligraphy at work -
Smooth, round, blunt and abrupt.
Only silence befits your adornment.
A single word is now a hindering crow.


Even if I were to be the daily flower that you snap;
I would willingly slide between your scissor's blades,
And calmly wait,
With my head bowed before the eon's love trade.

Whn you corner me around the glittering edge
And agilely clutch,
My death would be the only song
With which I would be happily gone.

In the End

Your words:
Dipped in honey
Glazed in praises,
Cooked in spices,
Forged in promises,
Have knotted my tongue to silence.

Your murky tears:
Devoid of meaning,
Emptive of feeling,
Loose at expense,
Crippled in essence
Have made me admire my wasteful spit.


Pickled tongue
A long line at the restroom
Swollen wallet
A cleaner pair of eyes
Yes ... she has left me!

The New Beginning

To love you is to mediate
To meditate is to dissolve
To dissolve is to extend
To extend is to grow,
To grow is to live
To live is to love
To love is to meditate ...

The essence of life is in its possibility
The greatest possibility of life is to be in love.