A Burning Flame for Freedom

A Burning Flame for Freedom

A burning flame for Freedom!

Under the occupation and oppression
You stood strong against the repression,
For a little shine of Freedom
Your fists raised high, so as the slogans,
In the face of injustice and unlawfulness
You hold to truth too tight,
Unbowed, you ran with all your might
Banned flags waving, a courageous sight,
Though flames consumed, you never waned
Against oppression and repression, you stood strong,
Your call and fist of Freedom
you raised them with a powerful voice,
Your body consumed and your voice taken away
But you rose and resist, until your last breath,
Your light will shine day and night
Through highs and lows, your names endure,
Echoing from the Himalayan mountains
Across the world, your slogans ring,

Free Tibet, Free Tibet, Free Tibet

By Sonsnow

  • In loving memory of the Tibetan martyrs, who made the ultimate sacrifice through self-immolation for the cause of Tibet.

A Homely Call

During our short stay in Ladakh.

A Homely Call 

Amidst whispers of the willow tree 

Here I sleep so sound and free,

Listening to the wrathful rushes, Indus’ gentle song  

The lullaby from the far distance, where I belong 

Beneath the blue sky and the twinkling stars,

Here I sleep so deep and free as if it’s all ours,

Imagining the wonders of a faraway homeland,

I can’t stop missing home, where my return was banned,

By Sonsnow

























ཕ་ཡུལ་ཡིད་ལ་འཁོར་བྱུང་། །




















Tell me not 

That the heavenly high peaks have lost their light,

It gleams beyond clouds, pure and bright.

As black shrouds part and the sky unfurls,

Peak’s radiance grows, unfettered and pearls. 

To my siblings in all three traditional land and place,

It is an oppressive foe, a ruthless face.

Speak not of bonds that friendship ties,

Remember deceit veiled in friendship’s guise.

With words so sweet and deeds that lacked core,

Our land was seized, its fate hard to swallow.

By Sonsnow

” A Call”

I came up with a visual poem “A Call” I wrote back in 2017
A Call
On that Sunday morning,
When the world laughs with their leisure activities
You too have received that call
From afar Distant Home,
On that morning
Just before breakfast was served
Your phone beeps
And you have received that call
From an unknown number
You have heard a Familiar voice
Quite and Quavering
You got a News
The news that nails our heart
And that call
All of a sudden, ripped us apart all at once,
Dark and Gloomy
The world began to fall and fade away
We were left dumb and numb
And you have received that call
That we Exilic brothers were born to bear
That call
which we don’t want to receive
And You have picked it,
And You bowed down to a table
Black and blind, numb and dumb
You left dead in despair
You have received that call
That,,, that,,,,, call
Which I don’t want to receive
That,,, that,,,, call
You have picked and heard 
“Your Mother Passed Away”
By: Sonsnow

When was the last time?

Tell me
When was the last time 
You called your Mom,
Ask me not 
The story will be sad and Long. 

Tell me 
When was the last time 
You slept in the house you own, 
Ask me not 
I have the same sad story. 

Tell me 
When was the last time 
You had a meal with your family, 
Ask me not 
The story will be long and bitter.  

Tell me 
When was the last time 
You saw your Parents, 
Ask me not 
The story will be sad and Tearful.

Tell me 
When was the last time 
You correctly count your siblings by their names, 
Ask me not 
I lost their count so shamefully.

Tell me 
When was the last time 
You hugged your grandma, 
Ask me not 
She was murdered long before my birth. 

Tell me 
When was the last time
You prayed for our martyrs, 
Ask me not 
It pains me every day.

Tell me 
When was the last time 
You thought about an independent homeland, 
Ask me not 
It keeps me awake all the time. 

Tell me
When was the last time?
You thought about riding horses and crossing hills of the Himalayas, 
Ask me not 
I dream about the same so often.

By Sonsnow 

Death is so Cruel

Death is so cruel 

Death is so cruel

So often to everyone, 

Young, old and adults 

All it takes away unnoticed. 

Death is so cruel 

So often to everyone,

Rich, poor and destitute 

All it takes away ignorantly. 

Death is so cruel 

So often to everyone,

Leaders, intellectuals and idiots, 

All it takes away indiscriminately. 

Death is so cruel 

So often to everyone,

You, me and others 

All it takes away someday. 

By Sonsnow 

  • Deeply saddened by the untimely death of prominent Tibetan Poet Chen Metak. May he rest peace in the hearts and minds of his readers, and may his works continues to lead the poetry path.

This Winter

This Winter

This winter, when we are all free to set our footsteps on the new streets and roam around the old city.

This winter, before the Chinese virus, captured our towns and cities and locked us apart in a social distance.

This winter, when we are all enjoying our daily routines in our own space with no excuses and complaints.

This winter, when we are all free to travel from here to there with no barriers to borders and boundaries.

This winter, before we are all locked up in our rat-sized rooms and peep through the curtains for lively activities.

By – Sonsnow

  • Wrote this two years back after the first wave of Covid-19.

I Don’t Want Tibet to Die

French football fans form a Giant Tibetan Flag To Annoy Chinese Viewers

I Don’t Want Tibet to Die

I don’t want Tibet to die,

I don’t want Tibet to disappear,

I don’t want Tibet to be destroyed-

No; I don’t want Tibet to die.

I don’t want Tibet to be filled with Chinese,

I don’t want my children to be called Chinese,

I don’t want my children to become Chinese-

No; I don’t want Tibet to die.

While our self-serving leaders indulge in confusion,

And my fellow Tibetans in exile remain timid and ignorant,

I know a few of us alone cannot make Tibet free-

And yet I don’t want Tibet to die.

Because it is not fair and it is not just,

Because Tibetans have the same right to freedom,

Because I want Truth to triumph over evil-

No; I don’t want my dear Tibet to die.

By-Lhasang Tsering

  • Lhasang Tsering is a writer and a poet, an outspoken advocate of Tibetan Independence.