MY TIBET - by Theurang
Is it you, the flame that burns in the middle of a storm?
Is it you, the boat that rocks in the sea?
Is it also you, who offers the torch of life in the darkness of night?
Is it you, where there is no freedom?
Is it also you, who is chained and shackled?
Is it you, who writes history in blood?
Are you a warrior?
Where are your battlefield and the weapons?
Are you a prisoner?
What crimes have you committed?
Is it your sky that the sun shies away from?
Is it your vow to let yourself be silent?
Are these your border guards, the long guns surrounding you?
Freedom is different from restrictions
Because of which you move,
Because of which they tie and bind you, isn't it?
Isn't it you who is being murdered?
Isn't it you who is being arrested?
Isn't it you who is being tortured?
Why is it that you still want to move?
Do you want to move amidst shadows of guns?
No.
Isn't it you who can never be cowed down?
Isn't it you who fiercely burns with passion?
Isn't it you who marches ahead into history?
Don't you need to move even more?
Don't you need to move till the time runs out and the life ends?
The writer is now in Chinese prison, SENTENCED TO 4 YEARS...
* Translated from the Tibetan by Bhuchung D. Sonam
** This poem was published in a book of poetry by Theurang titled, "Written in Blood."
