Poems from Ngawang Gyelstshen
The stains of ink on these clueless papers,
The hush of wind that calls your name,
These violent screams I kill as whispers,
I try,
I fail...
Shhh, little baby
Draped in your mother's white cloth,
Your tears won't do her any good.
Mama's little boy must dream,
Like all mama's...