(11/21/02)
When I first read about the butter lamps I could smell the smoke that filled the spacious halls And darkened tapestries on temple walls I heard the call of bells in far-off camps
And stars like candles in the frozen night Appeared as on the table of a King, I knew the song the spinning prayer-wheels sing And recognized this strange familiar site
As one who passes through a childhood town Remembers lanes forgotten by the rest, Knows secrets no adult has ever guessed And every path his feet have travelled down.
I saw in vision's clear awakened eye The coloured flags flapping in the wind The saffron robes native to my kind And awesome statues of the Deity.
I lived and loved in that transparent air And rode beneath her skies of ideal blue, I died in fields where orange lilies grew, Upon my lips an ancient Buddhist prayer.
Poems Undated (1727)
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