When taking a taxi in the morning, the broadcasting station in the car just puts a storehouse poem of Yangjiacuo " that generation " , feel mood of a day ameliorated at a draught.
That day,
I shut eye to be in the sweet mist of classics hall,
Suddenly hears the true talk in your eulogy classics;
That in January,
I am jolty all classics canisters,
Do not be release souls from purgatory, it is the finger tip that feels you only;
That year,
Knock long head is procumbent in hill road,
Do not be present oneself before an emperor, it is the warmth that sticking you only;
That generation,
Turn hill turns water turns tope,
Do not be long future world, in be road only, meet with you;
That in January,
I had turned gently all classics canister,
Do not be release souls from purgatory, it is the dactylogram that feels you only;
That one night,
I listened to one old Buddhist to sing,
Do not realize to join, it is a flavor that finds you only;
That momently,
I raise storm horse,
Do not be beg blessing, it is expect only your arrival;
That an instant,
I fly rise celestial being,
Do not be immortal, it is bless only you are fond of in safety happy;
Just, be in that one night,
I was forgotten all,
Cast however devotional,
Abandoned metempsychosis,
It is the rose that cries before Ceng Zaifo then only,
Lose the luster of former days already.
He is the king with the oldest the Western Regions, be full of legend all one's life, from the son of a destitute Helot, to most exalted Living Buddha, occupy sacred place of quiet and majestic the Potala Palace personally. He is the folk song that Tibet has a delegate most poet, writes poetry is celebrated China and foreign countries, not only in Tibetian there is important place on literary history, extensive and far-reaching effect produced in Tibetian people, and flower of a conspicuous strange beautiful different also is on alive bound Parnassus. He, it is 6 worlds are amounted to bilk lama storehouse Yangjiacuo.
Storehouse Yangjiacuo most of person commend, be not his political achievement, however the poem that he writes, and it is the passion that he keeps poem.
That generation, I go in street alone
The heart is bearing the weight of slowly feeling
Listen respectfully is worn the flower blossoms falling sound
This is side side transmits you however gently twittering sound
This generation, I step 1000 hill 10 thousand water
It is the form that seeks you only
It is only encounter with you
Ignite a heart bright lamp
Of that generation who are you?
In where encountering do we pass again?
