Sixth Dalai Lama: Poem No. 1

Yes, I know I've been posting very little lately.  Sorry.

Thought I'd go for something completely different.

Which is this, a translation of the first in a series of love poems by the Sixth Dalai Lama.

Some of you may not know that there was a Dalai Lama who wrote love poems and indeed who had lovers.  He wore blue silk, not monk's robes.  He did not shave his head, but wore his hair long.  He refused to ride on horseback but walked around Lhasa, freely, carousing, relaxed and open.  He built the Lukhang, a chapel behind the Potala featuring unusual paintings of meditation practices, which I was lucky enough once to see.

Many many different translators have worked on these.  Thought I'd add my versions, translating not from word to word, but from meaning to meaning. All errors are, of course, mine.

1.

clear  white  moon

rising  over

east  ridge  horizon


arising in  mind 

again

           and again

instant presence:

                                  her face



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