Cangyang Gyatso is the most cherished guru in Tibetan history. He exists like a fan, facing all kinds of causes and effects, secularity, joys and sorrows, life and death, but only what should be mentioned and put down.
He wrote countless love poems in his life, and this one is my favorite. He came from Lotus, and went through that day, that month and that year. His poems were amazing and shocking, and instantly penetrated that period of life.
On that day, I closed my eyes in the fragrant fog of the temple and suddenly heard the truth in your chanting.
That January, I shook all the prayer wheels, not to cross, but to touch your fingertips.
That year, I kowtowed on the mountain road, not to see you, but to stick to your warmth.
At that time, I turned the landscape into a stupa, not to repair the afterlife, but to meet you on the road.
At that moment, I raised my horse not to beg for happiness, but to wait for your arrival.
On that day, the Mani Pile was built not for Xiu De, but to throw stones at the Heart Lake.
That January, I shook all the prayer tubes not to cross over, but to touch your fingertips.
That year, I kowtowed on the mountain road, not to see, but to keep your warmth.
This life is not reincarnation, but meeting you on the road.
On that day, I closed my eyes and suddenly heard the true words in your Ode to Scripture in the fragrant fog of the temple.
That January, I shook all the prayer wheels not to cross over, but to touch your fingertips.
That year, I kowtowed to climb the mountain, not to see you, but to stick to your warmth.
I've climbed over mountains and water pagodas all my life, not to repair the afterlife, but to meet you on the road.
That night, I listened to Brahma sing all night, not for enlightenment, but for you.
That January, I turned all the prayer tubes not to cross over, but to touch your fingerprints.
That year, I kowtowed and hugged the dust, not for the Buddha, but for your warmth.
At that time, I crossed hundreds of mountains, not to repair the afterlife, but to meet you on the road.
At that moment, I soared to immortality, not for immortality, but for your peace and happiness.
However, on that night, I forgot everything, abandoned faith and reincarnation, just because the rose that once cried in front of the Buddha had already lost its former glory. So the Buddha said, forget it, forget it.
This song, savored, delicate, moving and lost! I think I must make a pilgrimage to Potala Palace and receive the most sacred baptism. Under that blue sky, there are eagles flying over and scattered clouds are within reach. There are Gesanghua and Achnatherum splendens swaying in the wind. There, our love is so simple, perhaps just to meet the eyes of a pair of Tibetan antelopes.
Half a lifetime of tea is half a lifetime of silence, and the most beautiful lotus blooms in the deepest part of the world of mortals.
Turning mountains and water into pagodas is not for the afterlife, but for meeting you on the road.