Jetsun Mirarepa is one of Tibet's most famous yogis and poet, a student and major figure in the history of Tibetan Buddhism. The essence of Mirarepa lies in his writing, often referred to as the Songs of Milarepa.
Travelling with his disciples, Milarepa came to Din Ri Namar where he enquired for the name of the outstanding patron. Learning that the physician Yang Nge was a devoted Buddhist, he proceeded to his house where the physician said, "It is said that Jetsun Milarepa can use anything at hand as a metaphor for preaching. Now please use the bubbles of water in this ditch before us as a metaphor and give us a discourse." In response, Jetsun sang a song -
I pay homage to my gracious Guru --
Pray make everyone here think of the Dharma!
As he said once, "Like bubbles is
This life, transient and fleeting--
In it no assurance can be found."
A layman's life is like a thief
Who sneaks into an empty house.
Know you not the folly of it?
* * *
Youth is like a summer flower--
Suddenly it fades away.
Old age is like a fire spreading
Through the fields -- suddenly 'tis at your heels.
The Buddha once said, "Birth and death
Are like sunrise and sunset--
Now come, now go."
Sickness is like a little bird
Wounded by a sling.
Know you not, health and strength
Will in time desert you?
Death is like an oil-dry lamp
(After its last flicker).
Nothing, I assure you,
In this world is permanent.
Evil Karma is like a waterfall,
Which I have never seen flow upward.
A sinful man is like a poisonous tree--
If you lean on it, you will injured be.
Transgressors are like frost-bitten peas--
Like spoiled fat, they ruin everything.
Dharma-practisers are like peasants in the field--
With caution and vigour they will be successful.
The Guru is like medicine and nectar--
Relying on him, one will win success.
Discipline is like a watchman's tower--
Observing it, one will attain Accomplishment.
The Law of Karma is like Samsara's wheel--
Whoever breaks it will suffer a great loss.
Samsara is like a poisonous thorn
In the flesh - if not pulled out,
The poison will increase and spread.
The coming of death is like the shadow
Of a tree at sunset--
It runs fast and none can halt it.
When that time comes,
What else can help but Holy Dharma?
Though Dharma is the fount of victory.
Those who aspire to it are rare.
Scores of men are tangled in
The miseries of Samsara;
Into this misfortune born,
They strive by plunder and theft for gain.
* * *
He who talks on Dharma
With elation is inspired,
But when a task is set him,
He is wrecked and lost.
* * *
Dear patrons, do not talk too much,
But practise the Holy Dharma.
