Song for a Pauper
A Spontaneous Song of Supplication to the Mother-Lineage Guru of the Great Secret
by Chögyam Trungpa
A heavenly rain that clears pain falls gently, and a thick, heavy fog rolls in.
When moved by these companions in my loneliness,
One and only mother, Ama Tsogyal, protector of us Tibetans,
With none kind as you, there is definitely no other hope but you.
Refrain:
Mother of all the victorious ones, so very kind Ama Tsogyal,
Refuge for this life and on, very kind mother, I miss you.
This little child, thinking of Ama, simply can’t bear it at all—
Ama, a la la, please truly show me a clear sign of your blessings.
Your form is empty, a goddess beyond language to describe you.
Seeing your innate face of coemergence, inexpressible in words,
Effortless great bliss blazes, and the great joy of the four joys,
On the path of freedom, awakens out from the core of my heart.
~Refrain
Seeing everyone in the six realms as your parents, you care for us with such great love,
And with the beckoning glance of your compassionate, loving eyes,
You summon the many beings of the three worlds as honored guests to the great yana.
When I think of your life, Mother Tsogyal, I aspire to be like you!
~Refrain
Outwardly, this current age of darkness is more and more running rampant,
Everyone delights in wrongdoing, engaging in evil.
All religious and secular order has broken down from within,
So here we are forced to cry out to you now, guardian of Tibetans!
~Refrain
Inwardly, driven by the busyness of our circle of family and friends,
After all of that practice, we end up in the lower realms by siding with evil.
When I see this tight lasso of hope and fear, of passion and aggression,
Sharp sword of prajna, my kind Ama, I think of you.
~Refrain
Secretly, tricked by confused appearances due to habit and grasping,
Lost in false appearances, thinking there are gods and demons,
When we end up feeling let down by the deity of self-arising wisdom,
I think of you, all-pervasive awareness, mother of the victorious ones.
~Refrain
The innate mind of coemergence, inherently without confusion or liberation,
Is beautiful Samantabhadri, beyond having face and arms.
Through merely hearing of you, let alone seeing you directly in person,
Thoughts, the duality of mind and body, naturally subside and dissolve.
~Refrain
In the luminous realm of Dhumathala, the source of all dharmas,
Is the ravishing woman free from habitual craving and grasping.
In a gathering of fair, fair ladies, at the undefiled ganachakra,
I’d take even the lowest seat there to enjoy the equality of the fourth moment.
~Refrain
The slip knot of craving and grasping, on the black lasso of mundane existence,
Drags us down further and further into the muck of samsara.
Seeing this makes me imagine limitless, undefiled pleasures,
And then I get to see my mother’s true face of formless awareness.
~Refrain
The kindest thing that I can do for myself is to practice the genuine dharma.
Being mindful of myself, I meet my own face.
This brings confidence in my own mind—these are my mother’s final instructions.
Except for just that, there is nothing at all for us to rely on.
~Refrain
Inwardly, this little bird in the trees keeps getting fooled by his friends,
Outwardly, keeps being fooled by foes, like having only brittle leather for clothing.
In between, the dark age keeps fooling us—what mental and physical pain!
In any case, now we have nothing at all for us to rely on.
~Refrain
The vow of the Mahaguru was to bring the sun of the vajrayana
To Tibet, a land of darkness, as is well known.
Mother Tsogyal, I feel it was through the chariot of your kindness
That the lotus garden of the supreme yana has bloomed—I admire you!
~Refrain
In the east, from behind high mountain peaks, the master of the seven horses,
Coming with its hundred warm rays that shine and dispel pain,
Opens a hundred-petaled lotus of faith in our hearts.
Grant your blessings that will make the buzzing, soaring bees happy.
~Refrain
In the south, amidst the groves of bamboo where live the Mönpas who color their mouths,
Wandering aimlessly in the great wide open free space,
With a walking stick in my hand, I sing out clearly this song,
This spontaneous sweet song that can be heard from miles and miles away:
Mother of all the victorious ones, so very kind Ama Tsogyal,
Refuge for this life and on, very kind mother, I miss you.
This little child, thinking of Ama, simply can’t bear it at all,
Ama, a la la! Bestow the blessings that I may be an unnoticed, poor wanderer.
Among those who hold the secret and please the Uddiyana lord, knower of the three times,
You are the chief of the celestial-realm dakinis, in the form of the sow-faced one.
Our beloved, swiftly bringing all the siddhis, the only refuge for Tibetans,
Joyful lady, source of bliss, let your compassion be quick:
Mother of all the victorious ones, so very kind Ama Tsogyal,
Refuge for this life and on, very kind mother, I miss you.
This little child, thinking of Ama, simply can’t bear it at all—
Ama, a la la, please truly show me a clear sign of your blessings.
Thus, this ornament for the ears of fortunate ones,
Adorned with garlands of beautiful and wonderous words,
Was spontaneously spoken by Jigdral She-me Dorje [Fearless Foolish Vajra]—
This lineage child of the omniscient ones, youthful and resting carefree,
Sustained by the blessings of the guru of the mother lineage of the three roots.
Overtaken by the rampant changing of the times, I nearly lost my
life. But finally, after narrowly escaping this horrific duhkha, I
stepped into the hidden land of Pema Kö. In a natural rock cave
near the sacred place of Pema Shelri, this wanderer from the upper
north, Chökyi Gyatso, sang this.
© 2008 by Diana J. Mukpo and the Nālandā Translation Committee
