Lama Yeshi Tsang
As we cuddle
And make shy love
The poppy falls
On the floor
Only to dry up and be forgotten
Amoung the dust
But the night will be memorable.

As I pick a poppy
From the poppy field
After our coupling
I am reminded
Of you
My love.

As I get into bed
I kiss a prayer flag
That’s hanging
As if I am saying
I love you my
Precious
Yeshi
I drift off to sleep
My body aches
For you my love.

People call me
A Lama’s concubine
But they don’t understand
Our relationship nor
What real love is.

There in a secluded
Poppy field
As the poppies sway
In the wind playfully
Two lovers couple.

During the day
I am alone
Isolated
I practice my calligraphy
And start writing
Love poems
So to win you over
For the night
All though you have stolen my heart.

As I hear the
Prayer flags outside the window
Flapping in the breeze
I feel your stubbles head
Between me
as you kiss my flesh
As you kiss my womanhood
My sweetheart.

My loving Yeshi
The wise Lama
From Tibet
My compassionate
And tantric lover
Gentle
And loving
Was we meet
We become one with
The cosmos.

As we make love
And kiss
You quit kissing my mouth
And start to kiss all
Of my chakras
You finish by
My root chakra
My womanhood
As you make love to me
You worship me.

When it was day
Your were a wise Lama
Teaching the youngsters
The ways of Buddha.


When it was night
Your were a gentle
But still a beast.
As you made love to me.