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THE SONG OF THE WANDERER
The mood of sadness is
inexhaustible;
Trying to end it would be
Like trying to reach the limits of space.
The feeling of longing is sharp and quick
Like an arrow shot by a skillful archer.
Across the sea in an Asian
island
There are wild flowers of every kind.
These flowers are inseparable from the yogi's experience.
This is too realistic to be only a dream,
But if it is really happening
I must say it is rather amusing.
In the land of Bhutan
Where the mountains are clothed in mist
Young Chogyam is wandering like a stray dog.
In the hermitage of the Blue Rock Castle
A pregnant tigress is suckling her young.
There we found the nectar of the new age.
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