Poem by Phuntsho Wangchuk
The Gift of Pebble
To you, to others, to the world entire,
It’s just a pebble, a worthless pebble;
An extraneous and a valueless stone
Which at measures of time can be
Easily fetched and instantly forgotten.
But for me it’s not just a pebble mere;
There’re much more things enshrined
Within it, most joyous moments of life:
The cream of my childhood is etched
And baked within this black, bare body.
Our hearts saw each, before our eyes
And knew faster than our conscience;
As the minutes matured into our days,
Strangeness grew into a love sublimed
And engirdled our souls into one bond.
Under the command of the Heaven,
Herding the cattle in village outskirts;
(She herded for her family, I for mine,
But with one common in us always)
Two souls blended like fire and tears.
We’d meet every morn with our cattle
And play games of Toss-Catch-Stones,
Mixing our thoughts and our laughters
Like our cattle mingled afield to graze,
Until the day retired into its dusty dusk.
Love and promises ruled those days
And the Heaven fell down to the earth;
Wrapped in her love, sealed by promises,
She gifted me a Pebble on one such day
And thence, she’s never seen or heard.
At this age, I still receive many such gifts;
Gifts on my birthdays, gifts for successes;
Gifts of various types and varied prices;
Yet they hardly can reach my heart deep
For my heart’s sealed by this little Pebble.