Poetry

THE WAY OF THE WORLD - 2

Though the lion is the king of the beasts, he is not peaceful
He always lies in wait for his next bloodthirsty opponent
Though the mountain goat is on the mountain’s peak, he is not calm
The upcoming battle stalks him everywhere
Though the beasts fight, there is no victory
Though they emerge with their lives, they don’t find peace
The proud eagle hunts them from the sky
Like an arrow, he pierces through and rips them apart
Everything passes like this, in the blink of an eye
Everything move on, forgotten by the ancient earth.

Though the distant hills are blue, they are not at rest
Their immaculate breasts are hacked away for gold
Though the diamond is the king of stones, he is pursued from behind
The demons of greed follow him
The ornaments adorned with these two are priced as high as the Sky
Only the strong have the power to attain one
He presents it as a birthday gift for his lover
She wears it when she’s with another man
This is the way of the world, it wags like a fox’s brush
These ordinary days pass by, apparently faultless.

30 January 2013
mid the four mountains surrounding Ulaabaatar
translated by Simon Wickham-Smith and Surenjav Sumiya

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