New (I've never seen them before, and I'm a fan) translations of some of the poems of the Sixth Dalai Lama, also known as The Turquoise Bee. Dude had a fascinating life. The former Dalai Lama, the Great Fifth, had died without leaving the explicit instructions as to how to find his next incarnation that were considered de rigeur in that org.
Things were left in the control of a Regent, who hid the fact of the former Dalai Lama's death from the Tibetan people and its Buddhist clergy, while he feverishly searched for the right kid. When he finally found the right kid, Tsangyang Gyatso was fourteen. Overnight he was taken away from his home and sent to the Potala palace in Lhasa, there to become the Sixth Dalai Lama, pretty much top dog in the Tibetan kennel. But he didn't go for it. He was a rebel from the beginning, refusing to take his formal vows as a monk (he was 14...give the dude a break), and then spending his days in the palace as the Dalai Lama and his nights in Lhasa's red light district Shol-town, carousing with women and writing great songs and poetry. I like the guy. I get off on the possibility that he really *was* the reincarnated Great Fifth, but that he'd grown a little since the previous incarnation. It's a MUCH more interesting story if one assumes that the guy was fully enlightened in a previous life than if one doesn't. . . . . . . . . . . . . . "Over the eastern hills rises The smiling face of the moon; In my mind forms The smiling face of my beloved' . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'If only I could wed The one whom I love, Joys of gaining the choicest gem >From the ocean's deepest bed would be mine' . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'She smells sweet of body My sweetheart, the highway queen; Like the worthless white turquoise She was found, to be thrown away' . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'Longing for the landlord's daughter Blossoming in youthful beauty Is like pining for peaches Ripening on the high peach trees' . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'Sleepless I am Because I am in love; Fatigue and frustration overwhelm When day brings not my beloved to me' . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'Spring flowers fade in the fall; It is not for the turquoise bees to mourn. I and my sweetheart are fated to part; It is not for us to cry' . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'Frost gathers on the glistering flowers And then the cold north wind blows. The frost and the wind must have come To drive the bees away from the flowers' . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'I have hoisted prayer-flags For the good luck of my beloved. Forest keeper, Ajo Shelngo, Do not trample her good luck flags . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'I incline myself To the teachings of my lama But my heart secretly escapes To the thoughts of my sweetheart' . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'Even if meditated upon, The face of my lama comes not to me, But again and again comes to me The smiling face of my beloved' . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'When my luck was good I hoisted auspicious prayer-flags And the young lady of noble birth Hosted me at her home' . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'Your sweet smile is To steal away my young heart. If your love for me is true, Promise me so >From the depths of your heart' . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'When the gem was mine I cared not, and ignored its value. Now that the gem is lost to others, Melancholy overwhelms me As its pure worth dawns on me' . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'My sweetheart who truly loved me Has been stolen to wed another. I am sick with longing sorrow And frustration emaciates my frail body' . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'In my dreams often I see my lost beloved; A soothsayer I must seek To search for her soon for me' . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'If the maiden will live forever The wine will flow evermore. The tavern is my haven; With wine I am content' . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'My beloved from childhood Seems to be of the wolf's race; Even after many nights together She tries to escape, Like the wolves, to the hills' . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'To the wings of this eagle The wind and the rocks have been cruel. The sly and scheming ones Have harassed me, always without ceasing' . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'Pink clouds Hide frosts and hailstorms; He who is a half-monk Is a hidden enemy of the dharma . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'The moon tonight seems To be the full moon, But the hare* inside the moon Does not seem to be alive" * Refers to a Tibetan belief that a giant hare resides in the moon . . . . . . . . . . . . . "Like the rising moon of the third day My beloved is dressed is pure and white, But on the full moon of the fifteenth day Take an oath of meeting as pure and bright' . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'Even the stars in the sky Can be measured by astrology. Her body can be caressed, But not so fathomed Her deep inner longing' . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'Sweetheart awaiting me in my bed Yielding tenderly her sweet soft body, Has she come to cheat me And disrobe me of my virtues?' . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'Peacocks from eastern India, Parrot from the depths of Kongpo, Though born in separate countries Finally come together In the holy land of Lhasa' . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'People gossip about me. I am sorry for what I have done; I have taken three thin steps And landed myself in the tavern of my mistress' . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'In the short walk of this life We have had our share of joy. Let us hope to meet again In the youth of our next life' . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'The garrulous parrot Please stay with your mouth shut. The thrush in the willow grove Has promised to sing a song for me' . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'Yama, the mirror of my karma Residing in the realm of death, You must judge and grant justice. Here, while alive, I had no justice" Translation of the 'Songs of the Sixth Dalai Lama' by K Dhondup, Dharamshala. --- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, Emily Reyn <emilymae.reyn@...> wrote: > > An Old Celtic Blessing > May the blessing of light be on you > light without and light within. > May the blessed sunlight shine on you > and warm your heart > till it glows like a great peat fire. > > ________________________________ > From: Buck dhamiltony2k5@... > To: FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com > Sent: Sunday, April 29, 2012 6:08 AM > Subject: [FairfieldLife] Re: Morning Meditation > > > Â > > Om, Return Again. > > > > Om, revive us! Om, revive us! > > All our help must come from you! > > > > > > > > Lest for want of Thy assistance, > > > Every plant should droop and die. > > > > > > Om, revive us! Om, revive us! > > > All our help must come from you! > > > > > > > > > > > Keep no longer at a distance, > > > > Shower upon us a graceful rain. > > > > > > > > Om, revive us! Om, revive us! > > > > All our help must come from you! > > > > > > > > > > > > > > All will come to desolation, > > > > > Unless Thou return again. > > > > > > > > > > Om, revive us! Om, revive us! > > > > > All our help must come from you! > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > Om, Visit Thy plantation, > > > > > > Grant us Om, a gracious rain! > > > > > > > > > > > > Om, revive us! Om, revive us! > > > > > > All our help must come from you! > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > "Heart" is merely another name for the Supreme Spirit, because He is in all hearts. > > > > > > > > > > > > > > The entire Universe is condensed in the body, and the entire body in the Heart. > > > > > > > > > > > > > > Thus the Heart is the nucleus of the whole Universe. > > > > > > > > > > > > > > ~Ramana Maharshi > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > Come, let us raise our voices high, > > > > > > > > > And form a sacred song, > > > > > > > > > To Him who rules the earth and sky, > > > > > > > > > And does our days prolong. > > > > > > > > > Who thru the night gave us to rest, > > > > > > > > > This morning cheered our eyes; > > > > > > > > > And with the thousands of the blest, > > > > > > > > > In health made us to rise. > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > Early to God we'll send our prayer, > > > > > > > > > > Make hast to pray and praise, > > > > > > > > > > That He may make our good His care, > > > > > > > > > > And guide us all our days. > > > > > > > > > > And when the night of death comes on, > > > > > > > > > > And we shall end our days; > > > > > > > > > > May His rich grace the theme prolong, > > > > > > > > > > Of His eternal praise. > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >
