We are in a hollow world
Where people are headless chicken
Bloody revolutionaries, brute force charging together
To slay, the meditating monks.
Alas! Where are the sane voices?
All dried up
Fearing brutal comrades.
As dry chaff in the storm
Or flies over dead corpse.
Lifeless jokers, dancing meaninglessly.
Closed streets of Lhasa are red
With the blood of monks and lamas.
Some have crossed to a
Paralyzed other kingdom
To avoid brutal repression
Meeting hollow and stuffed comrades.
I cannot dare to open my eyes
To see death’s kingdom
Violent sunlight on shattered bodies
Dead land-ruled by cactuses
Raising of a dead man’s head
Under the cluster of dying stars.
It is death’s world
It is a paradise for ghosts
Moving alone
Trembling with fear
Lips kissing the dying soul.
Revolutionaries have no eyes
In this Death Valley
Bullets select their own targets,
Poor monks grope together
Speechless on this mountain of dying kingdom.
Hollow ideas, sad realities
No conception, no creation, no emotion
Havoc is made in the silent valley.
Only for a desire
To live and let live.
Alas! Roof of the failed world,
Looking-The defender of faith
The Holy One, the Absolute wisdom,
Have mercy, save us.
From:
DR. Yogesh SHARMA
Dr. Yogesh Sharma
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/genocide-in-tibet/