28 November 2006
In Memoriam Tsog Shagdarsuren
Posted by khuushuur under: mongolia .
In reaction to the sudden passing away of Tsog Shagdarsuren I received the following from Lyn Coffin
I remember him as being one of those rare people who are imaginatively or empathetically tolerant. He really seemed able to put himself into someone else’s mindset, even if that person was of the opposite sex, and from the U.S. Here’s the (revised) poem I dedicated to him. He liked the poem, and translated it into Mongolian; that pleases me.
The Silver Tree
for Tsog
Tsog, my new Mongolian friend, pointed
to the fountain ahead of us. “It’s a copy
of ‘The Silver Tree’,” he said. “It stood
in Ancient Kharakoum. The mouths of
the dragons pour out water now, but then
they gave forth airag, wine, and honey,
<!– D(["mb","and another drink I don’t remember.”
\n
\n
After the reception, I walked alone in
\n
\n
the courtyard, tasting what drink the dragons
\n
\n
had to offer. Airag presented
\n
\n
the bleak wisdom of living in the body,
\n
\n
moving with herds across the grassy steppe. Wine
\n
\n
suggested the joys of living in the mind,
\n
\n
cities clustered like grapes on tangled vines.
\n
\n
Honey reawakened the taste of
\n
\n
living in the spirit: sweet meditations in
\n
\n
monastic rock. These three spoke eloquently",1] ); //–>and another drink I don’t remember.”
After the reception, I walked alone in
the courtyard, tasting what drink the dragons
had to offer. Airag presented
the bleak wisdom of living in the body,
moving with herds across the grassy steppe. Wine
suggested the joys of living in the mind,
cities clustered like grapes on tangled vines.
Honey reawakened the taste of
living in the spirit: sweet meditations in
monastic rock. These three spoke eloquently<!– D(["mb","
\n
\n
of body, mind, and soul. But the fourth tasted
\n
\n
of all and none of that; tasted of love and
\n
\n
death, the touch of the god that wipes our
\n
\n
blank slates clean, then graves itself on stone,
\n
\n
its name too sacred ever to be spoken.
",1] ); //–>
of body, mind, and soul. But the fourth tasted
of all and none of that; tasted of love and
death, the touch of the god that wipes our
blank slates clean, then graves itself on stone,
its name too sacred ever to be spoken.
