I come home from school
Lethargic like a lion at dreary dusk;
A smile beneath the façade of fatigue,
Creases of my collar dust in lime
Sweating to the sinews in time,
Gasp for a restful sigh-
A coffee in my old tea mug,
Perhaps a whisky in ice to mock
As I fall upon the cot
Into slumber I long not to rise;
A distant call of loyalty given,
Every breath to greatness of learning
In splendor to every strand of silver hair
I age with chalk to charter children’s dreams
Of discipline and decorum of manhood;
Every pace on the classroom floor trodden
Hurt like cobbler’s anvil beaten,
Molding crude innocence to intelligence;
My tongue seek some beverage to dull
The parched and torn path
That sung music in moral majesty,
In matters of the world few can play,
In my selfless giving rejoice every day;
A draft of change I make in little measure
The shades of life that shroud the treasure
In the ignorance of children in class
Give credence to the ageing heart
In a teacher I am today;
Can I slumber when another daylight
Waits for the future I must give delight!
~Namgyal Tshering
Punakha, Bhutan