From the memoir of a song which I heard some years ago,
the verse of which still echoes my ear.
image source: google rinpoche.
The three precious words which cradles my heart,
I longed to express to you but without a chance.
Yet between you and me, the wind of ill fate blew,
Making us part, for there wasn’t an alternative.
When in the summer’s heat, I troubled of thirst.
By fate, I encountered you, the mountain spring.
Yet I am saddened when the stream flowed away,
Leaving me in pain, like the fish on the dry shore.
The beauty of rheum, it blossoms on alpine hills,
The silver moon, please don’t wane and fade but wait
For our parting today is a transient fate,
May the circle of karma bring us together.
P.S: Its a rough translation of a Dzongkha song.