Classic Poem

In Lhasa there must be musk deer,
there must be gold in Lhasa.
There must be magic in Lhasa's river
and moonlight burning the peaks.

There must be grand temples in Lhasa,
in Lhasa the long robes.
I've never gone but my longing to go
sees the land of gold.

Beyond the clouds, past the sunshine
of Gosainthan, is Lhasa.
Unknown, the sweet mouth-harp's twang
and, oh! the talk of the nightingales.

In Lhasa there's the living Buddha
and the chilly days.
Beyond the reach of eyesight
my heart imagining leaps high
to see the golden fleece.

Someone tell that Lhasa man
beside the Turquoise River,
like a bird in a cage a girl
weeps and longs to catch hold
of the hem of his robe.

Alas! I won't reach Lhasa in this lifetime,
the roads will wash away,
I won't see the unknown, won't understand
the talk of the nightingales,
alas, the talk of the nightingales.