On that day,
I closed my eyes and was in the fragrant fog of the temple.
I suddenly heard the truth in your hymn;
In January of that year,
I shake all the curved pipes,
Not to cross over,
Just to touch your fingertips;
That year,
Kowtow and climb the mountain,
Not for the audience,
Just to stick to your warmth;
At that time,
Put mountains, water and pagodas,
Not for the afterlife,
Just to meet you on the road.
In January of that year,
I gently turned all the curved pipes,
Not to cross over,
Just to touch your fingerprints;
That year,
I kowtowed and hugged the dust,
Not for the Buddha,
Just to stick to your warmth;
At that time,
I searched hundreds of mountains,
Not for the afterlife,
Just to meet you on the road;
Just,
That night,
I forgot everything,
Abandon faith,
Abandoned reincarnation,
Just for the sake of,
Roses crying in front of Buddha,
Has long lost its former glory.
Cangyang Jiacuo was born in the 22nd year of Kangxi (1683) in a serf family at the foot of Yunala Mountain in southern Tibet. He is a talented poet, and his short life is full of legends, including religion and politics, the sadness of love and the impermanence of fate. He doesn't care about his identity. He plays laymen in Lhasa at night, drinks mellow highland barley wine in pubs and enjoys love. In this way, his love poems spread all over the snowy area. He is a born poet, who praises love, life, purifies the soul and seeks truth with exquisite and touching poems, which has been tried and proved by countless men and women in later generations.
This poem is like a song, sung softly and infiltrated into people's hearts. Simple melody and simple words tell the most beautiful love-even if the sea turns into a mulberry field, as long as I can see her looking back and smiling, then "I" will not suffer "that life" in vain, even if I have devoted my life, as long as I suddenly look back and see her back, I must thank the Buddha for his gift.
I believe that it is better to have a secret crush on you all your life than to have a good beginning and a bad ending. I know you recite the scriptures in the temple every day. Did you listen to your truth that day, by accident or by fate? I'm afraid that I can't hide my fear of being noticed by smart you. I'm afraid that my burning eyes will heat your white cheeks, so I can only quietly pursue your shadow, greedily breathe your air, carefully rub your palm prints, and slowly enjoy your temperature everywhere you have been.
In the smoky temple, you gently recite the scriptures, as if whispering to me. You gently shake the scripture, and the wood and bamboo collide as if the strings were solo for me. I can't tell whether this is a dream or a reality. I stubbornly refused to tear up that page of calendar, thinking that time would stay on that day forever.
So that January, I learned your movements and gently shook all the scriptures in the temple. Others think I am devout, but I don't know that all the helpers just pray to the Buddha through the swaying rhythm. I hope I can have the honor to hold a Buddhist scripture with you and feel the temperature slowly coming from your fingertips.
I can only follow you step by step, like a pilgrimage, collapse and collapse, close to your heart, close to your warmth. The golden pagoda in the distance gradually blurred in the sunset, and the ultimate entrance of pilgrimage slowly melted on my hot chest.
The destination of pilgrimage is vague in my eyes. It doesn't matter whether it is clear or dissipated. I only wish to "turn mountains into water and towers into towers" and pray for an "afterlife" all my life. However, how can I covet a long life and meet you in this life? This kind of fate is enough in this life! How dare I covet the afterlife? I just want to catch a glimpse of you on my journey to the world!
I don't know when I can see your beautiful image again. The wind horse rises slowly in my hands and swings with the wind. I don't expect Buddha's care until the moment when the sun shines on the western hills. If you haven't come yet, what's the use of a lucky star shining high? What's the use of my loving your heart?
No matter how tall Xiu De is, it has no intention to me. Even if I have a stone in my hand, I can throw it into your heart and ripple in your girl's pure heart lake to let you know that you are silently loving you. Whether you love me equally or not, even whether you know me or not, I love you silently.
I can only love you silently, but I can't see your sleepless nights. I listen to Brahma, and your smiling faces emerge one by one. I don't care if I realize it or get lost. I think you have heard this same Brahma song in a distant night. I think the night is so intoxicating, and the gentle night wind slowly opens your heart.
My persistence touched the Buddha, turned into a light wing and soared to the hall of eternal life. I don't know where I am. I wonder if I can see you again? I just want you to be safe and happy.
There is no whisper in your ear. Why is your breath still around me in the night wind? At that time, every minute of my life was silently collecting all my persistence and anxiety. I sobbed secretly in spite of all my expectations and fantasies, just to meet you, and my faith collapsed in front of you. The reincarnation without you is just another torment, but in the end it doesn't matter whether I look at it or not, but in the end, I lost my former glory!
There are no flowery words in the poem, but it is moving, like a flower in bud of first love, slightly intoxicated, and like a deep secret love, intoxicating. The "I" in the poem has been silently loving the "she" in my heart. Although this loving pen and ink has not yet described the appearance of "her", a girl with a graceful figure and affectionate eyes between the lines is vividly on the paper. Presumably, it is worth the poet to give up his faith, and the woman who gives up reincarnation should only exist in heaven and be hard to find on earth! This is a pen-and-ink painting, which gives readers endless imagination.
Compared with other love poems, the author's special status adds a bit of mystery to this poem. There is only one word "Buddha" mentioned in the poem, which is about faith. However, words such as prayer halls, prayer flags, turning mountains into water into stupas, chanting in Sanskrit, reincarnation, etc. all make people feel that the poem contains mysterious religious flavor. The pure love of "I" in the same poem is said to the second person as "you".
That day, that month, that year, that life, that night ... the theme of love is mostly compared with time. Can love resist the polishing of time? There are only two kinds. One is that two people love each other, so maybe love will be wasted by time. Second, all shall be well, jack shall have Jill, so the river of years will be washed into the exclusive love palm print in the hands of persistent people. Love that can withstand years of polishing is the most beautiful after vicissitudes.
Cang Yang Jia CuO's life is an elusive mystery and an immortal legend. He is a monk, but he wrote down all worldly feelings and love. His love poems are like pearls on the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau, illuminating the hearts of countless men and women. His legends and stories are fascinating. He wrote the beauty and sadness of life with brilliance and sadness, and showed the world another kind of perfection. Comet-like life can be short, but it will never be dim and will never sink. He crossed the sky, but left behind the most beautiful poems in the world for future generations to read tirelessly.