Sons of king Gesar
Khmapas proud and tall
tender as a dew drop
yet impenetrable wall
stood to guard to Potola
Gonpo Tashis’ men
some peasants some hunters
some ordained to zen
Wangdu , Donoyo,Drawpon
Khampa warriors unnamed
like ferocious winds
were torrents untamed
they surged across the mountains
waded the rivers swift
through the nightfall darkness
and the morning mist
riding the giddy mountains
on surefooted steeds
guns on their shoulders
holding their prayer beads
into the vale of Yarlung
where did certain death await
with mindfulness of freedom
walked lung gom pa gait
on southern bank of yarlung
is Lokha region dry
saddled in lap of mountains
which overlook the sky
in this desolate region
one such battle was fought
where cold courage undid
every lesson taught
by the niymao river
thousands of locust teemed
their bayonets glinted
their cannons did beamed
they casted the curse of rahu
invoked arbuda hell
and rose to deafening crescendo
yamas wrathful bell
into fusillade of fire
khampa cavalry charged
trampling cutting hacking
as their guns discharged
they broke the red line
embraced victory instead
leaving on the field
hundreds of vanquished dead
Tan played his trickery
seeking Rgyal-ba Rinpoche entrapped
Lhasa surged on streets
as its persistence snapped
the warriors of the faith
rose to the hour
they escorted Holy One
safe and far
Gaden Phodrang was thus
established in exile
safe ,away from Lahsa
far away by miles
back by the tsangop
the game of death was on
when Mao lost the King
he pounced upon the pawns
in every nook and corner
chitipati danced
loot rape and arson
everything did chanced
the flames of resurgence
were simmering far and wide
somewhere in just trickles
and somewhere in tides
some small actions happened
few battles bigger fought
it was a fight for honor
and freedom was sought
slowly the weight of numbers
doused the surface fire
entombed with unmarked graves
ashen with flames of pyre
but in the realm of hungry ghost
resistance was alive
from the Mustang barren
the warriors did strive
and when Pha Trelgen Changchup Sempa fell
things took an ugly turn
a bhikkhu embraced maya
inflict scalding burn
he stashed away the dollars
and sold his kith and kin
who lives here for salvation
in this world full of sin
Lamho Tsering was blown
Rara , Tenzing were burned
the game was almost over
as the tides has turned
Wangdu the mountain lion
tried a last dich stand
he walked alone barefoot
on the buring sand
“ I live or not
its not important now
but the flame must always burn
the mud will once more be casted
into a useful urn
I lie here
so close to freedom
yet I am enslaved
I bequeath nothing to my children
so why should I be bereaved
the phubra on my back
hurts more to me then dying
my eyes are frozen moist
I think I have been crying
My eyelids are heavy now
I want to sleep on hope
if freedom comes with sunrise
worth dying on this slope
but I know my karma
will bring me back again
to fight few more battles
beyond losses and gains
the six ranges will once gain
rise up their head with sun
the four river rejoicing
that freedom has been won”
thus the mountain line
melted into the snow
and the dust settled
on his eternal glow
the warriors of Kham
and their selfless deed
were lost away in time
its shame indeed .
