Rebkong
Rebkong,
Gedun Choephel
My feet are wandering neath the alien star.
My native land,- the road is far and long.
Yet the same light of Venus and Mars
Falls on the small green valley of Rebkong.
Rebkong,- I left thee and my heart behind.
My boyhood’s dusty plays,- in far Tibet.
Karma, that restless stallion made of wind,
In tossing me, where will it land me yet?
Like autumn cloud, I float, soon, there, soon here,
I know not what the fleeting moons may bring.
Here in this land of roses, fair Kashmir,
My years are closing around me like a ring.
Fate sternly sits at Destiny’s hard loom,
And irrevoked, her tangled pattern weaves.
The winds are blowing around my father’s tomb,
And I but dream of those still summer eves,
Where, child, I listened to my mother’s voice,
Whose stories made my youthful heart rejoice.
So far, so far I may not see those graves.
Ah, friend, these separation pangs are sore.
My heart is thrown upon the ocean’s wave.
When shall I at last reach a peaceful shore?
I’ve drunk of holy Ganga’s glistening wave.
I’ve sat beneath the sacred Bodhi tree,
Whose leaves the wanderer’s weary spirit lave.
Thou sacred land of Ind, I honour thee,
But, oh, that valley of Rebkong,
The sylvan brook which flows that vale along.
