Fire swords conquer enemies
Fine brushes win hearts.
My blade has let history be,
Instead I have seized my brush.
THE MOON RISES OVER AN OLD TEMPLEWhen the moon rises over an old temple,
its fleeting rays gild the ancient finials.
The wind grieves across the holes of the bamboo flute,
brings the sadness...
SADNESS AND COMFORT AT AN OLD TEMPLE…When I awoke in the light of dawn, the wind was stronger and the air cracked cold and moist. The rain was far away, and the sky was clear. There was a l...
A Melody Heard in the Mongol ScriptAfter I had come back from Civitella, we were Facebook friends. I was looking once at a picture which Felipe had posted of his study at home, and on the wall ne...
The Holy OneG.Mend-Ooyo's new novel, The Holy One, tells the story of the nineteenth century poet, educator and spiritual teacher, the Noyon Hutagt Danzanravjaa (1803-1...
Extract from The Holy OneThis desert we speak of is a highly secretive place. The wisdom of antiquity cannot outsmart it. This desert we speak of, though we see it, its yellowed borderl...
WRITTEN ON THE CEILING
Fire swords conquer enemies
Fine brushes win hearts.
My blade has let history be,
Instead I have seized my brush.
How the Flames of Gal Blazed ForthDuring our time as students in the 1970s, our close group of friends created the Gal group based around our common interest in poetry, and it is true that we, w...
Audio Recording of “The Swallows”Returning from afar, swallows in flocks
Embrace the tales of the gentle, tranquil steppe.
The waters of eternity were spilt into the yellow steppe’s pal...
YAVUU`S LAST WORDThe 15th of March is the birthday of my teacher Begzin Yavuuhulan, a great poet and enlightener of Mongolia. Here is my essay, through which I want to deliver h...