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| Sarkundi Pass |
Snowmelt’s going to be washed to the oceans someday anyway, so give my ashes to a fresh snowfall laid at the feet of mountains,
give them to the arms of pinewoods,the immense worlds tucked in a print of a caribou.
Give them, my love, to the vast stillness, the flakes dancing to the leaps and whims of snowstorms,trembling on the ribbed ripples of tranquil lakes
and when the universe finally remakesthem, may they again take a woman’s form.
May I be reborn around these mountains, close to these spring-touched fields, these winter-bright slopes;
and one day quite by chance walking these snowsmay we meet again where the conifer grows as stars pin clouds in place with their sapphire drops.
May I be born here on the ridge of a mountain,come face to face with you, and fall in love again.
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