A flower withers in a month’s time.
But the turquoise bee doesn’t grieve.
At the ending of an affair
I will not grieve either.*
The sixth Dalai Lama,
tantric adept and Bohemian poet
adorned with jewels and blue silk robes
instead of saffron or crimson,
partied till dawn in Lhasa’s brothels
and bars when he wasn’t busy
pollinating some aristocratic beauty.
Renouncing his monastic vows, he
kept only his title as incarnation
of the Bodhisattva of Compassion.
Isn’t love just another stop on the path
*From The Turquoise Bee: The Love Songs of the Sixth Dalai Lama by Fields, Cutillo and Oda.