( Excerpt from the poem ” Ode to West wind” by PB Shelley
The present situation in Tibet reminds me of the poem of PB Shelley. The Tibetans inside Tibet have fallen upon the thorns of life and they are bleeding. Their voices could hardly be heard and someone help us in this time of hardship. Let their sacrifices be a wake up call for all. Some one like the powerful west wind, help us.
“As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need.
Oh! lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud!
I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!
A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed
One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud
Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is:
What if my leaves are falling like its own!
The tumult of thy mighty harmonies
Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone,
Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce,
My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!
Drive my dead thoughts over the universe
Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth!
And, by the incantation of this verse,
Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth
Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!
Be through my lips to unawakened Earth
The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?”