Requiem for Berlin

In the middle of this desert of snow
That without the limits appears
Barefoot you will slowly go,
Inconsolably wiping the tears.

You will help on the yaks put the load,
Will make tea with a butter and salt,
Will embrace me last time on the road
And will give me the turquoise and gold.

And the hands we'll be longingly holding
Will cause only a sorrowful pain.
Every meeting will end up in parting,
We will not see each other again!

On resembling the hell, burning streets of Berlin,
Through explosions and screams of the wounded
I'll remember the howl of a lone kangling*
Over gorges, abundantly wooded.

Holding tightly the butt of a sub-machine gun,
With the taste of the blood and gunpowder
I'll recall Mount Tsari on pilgrimage done
And the jungle, and the feeling of wonder.

As the scenes of a movie remembering these,
Fiercely fighting, I will die alone,
Being ignorant of paddy fields of Chinese
Where teeth of a dragon were sown


That this dragon, that's born from the poisonous egg,
From the murderous curses of beings,
With a belly resembling a big bloody bag
Over you will be spreading its wings.

That you'll leave all the yaks and the house behind,
With your son and the rosary just,
Homeland you will leave, the asylum to find
You will walk through the snowy pass.

And who knows, perhaps this can happen once-
With the emptiness mingling my mind
I'll remember the tears in your brown eyes
That to me were loving and kind.

I'll remember Berlin and my black uniform,
And all those with whom I was fighting;
Woolen tent in Golok, where I have been born,
And the glittering sign "double lightning".

Life is fleeting and quick is the minute.
Don't be gloomy, you'll be born again.
Realizing that mind is infinite
You'll be breaking the suffering chain!


*Kangling is a thighbone trumpet, used in some Tantric rituals.
In details see: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kangling
Inspired by "The Morning of the Magicians"