Between two monasteries,
a mantra of six words,
forehead to earth, kneeling, touching dust.
The force of the beads.

...

The fifteen-year-old living Buddha
speaks a different language.
Outside the temple, a tree;
inside, a tower embedded with jewels.
Forty thousand Buddhas,
forty thousand Tibetan words,
and forty thousand leaves --
all have fallen on her shoulders.

Between two monasteries
her clothing disappears.
Her silence has no end -- when could it come to shore?
Here in this cycle she has this life;
circled by a string of predestined beads
it breaks the surface of darkness.
 Tibet