jiabi

My Tibet is not for sale 

Unlike the commercial centre

This home is sacred space 

For not everything is to be bought 

As it is sold in the marketplace of 

Of humanity, gone; this temple 

This home; this straw mat, 

This perfumed incense, this spirit 

This land and this place remain free; 

Ancestral spirits are not sold 

Only honoring takes place here 

In the land of the Gods 

Where the jiabi kite fly high in the winds