|
The Song of Food and Dwelling
![Milarepa, Milarepa poetry, Buddhist, Buddhist poetry, Tibetan poetry, [TRADITION SUB2] poetry, poetry](images/Milarepa_sm.jpg) |
by Milarepa
(1052 - 1135) Timeline
English version by Garma C. C. Chang
Original Language Tibetan
|
|
I bow down at the feet of the wish-fulfilling Guru. Pray vouchsafe me your grace in bestowing beneficial food, Pray make me realize my own body as the house of Buddha, Pray grant me this knowledge.
I built the house through fear, The house of Sunyata, the void nature of being; Now I have no fear of its collapsing. I, the Yogi with the wish-fulfilling gem, Feel happiness and joy where'er I stay.
Because of the fear of cold, I sought for clothes; The clothing I found is the Ah Shea Vital Heat. Now I have no fear of coldness.
Because of the fear of poverty, I sought for riches; The riches I found are the inexhaustible Seven Holy Jewels. Now I have no fear of poverty.
Because of the fear of hunger, I sought for food; The food I found is the Samadhi of Suchness. Now I have no fear of hunger.
Because of the fear of thirst, I sought for drink; The heavenly drink I found is the wine of mindfulness. Now I have no fear of thirst.
Because of the fear of loneliness, I searched for a friend; The friend I found is the bliss of perpetual Sunyata. Now I have no fear of loneliness.
Because of the fear of going astray, I sought for the right path to follow. The wide path I found is the Path of Two-in-One. Now I do not fear to lose my way.
I am a yogi with all desirable possessions, A man always happy where'er he stays.
Here at Yolmo Tagpu Senge Tson, The tigress howling with a pathetic, trembling cry, Reminds me that her helpless cubs are innocently playing. I cannot help but feel a great compassion for them, I cannot help but practice more diligently, I cannot help but augment thus my Bodhi-Mind.
The touching cry of the monkey, So impressive and so moving, Cannot help but raise in me deep pity. The little monkey's chattering is amusing and pathetic; As I hear it, I cannot but think of it with compassion.
The voice of the cuckoo is so moving, And so tuneful is the lark's sweet singing, That when I hear them I cannot help but listen -- When I listen to them, I cannot help but shed tears.
The varied cries and cawings of the crow, Are a good and helpful friend unto the yogi. Even without a single friend, To remain here is a pleasure. With joy flowing from my heart, I sing this happy song; May the dark shadow of all men's sorrows Be dispelled by my joyful singing.
|