Comes the Lama brother to my yard today,
On the stringed Pimba he sings his mountain lay.
When I hear the Shangbi's high-pitched flowing strain,
Then Gosain Kunda's summit attain.
Round about the snowy peaks are reflected on the lake,
And the yaks are browsing, tinkling bells on neck!
The Buki flower wafts forth its soft delicious smell.
Sweet Pimba instruments play on love's memories well.
Whose heart is, say, untouched by youth's delicious throat?
There is no land where Love's beautiful bloom blows not!
The pinegroves softly call out to me today,
The yak in welcome shakes her long white tail this day.
I now proceed to Shailung peak, seen by the first sunlight,
Where Lama brothers have carved peace songs on high granite.
Translated by:
Laxmi
Prasad Devkota
