The Epic of Gesar of Ling

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The Epic of Gesar of Ling Page 53

by Robin Kornman


  The garuḍa indicates the life-force symbol of the Lesser Lineage,

  The dragon indicates the life-force symbol of the Middle Lineage,

  The lion indicates the life-force symbol of the Greater Lineage,

  The tiger indicates the Tag-rong tribe,

  The elephant indicates the brethren.

  The skill to soar across the sky and

  The might to tread on the earth

  Are the signs of unrivaled strength and power.

  Failing to reach the limits of the sky and earth,

  The pitched rainbow tent,

  Plus not gaining the throne by racing

  Are all signs that the prize will dissolve into a rainbow.

  That the sun and clouds rose into the sky

  From Chugmo Namtsho of Gu Mountain

  Indicates that Joru’s origin is from the nāgas.

  That the clouds dissolved in space

  Indicates that he will discard his ugliness and bad manners.

  The rising of the radiant golden sun

  Indicates that Joru will hold the golden throne.

  That its light rays encompass Jambudvīpa

  Indicates that his buddha activity will increase to benefit all beings.

  The people singing the praise that the sun’s warmth is great kindness,

  Indicates that all beings will be established in happiness.

  Such are the marvelous dreams I had.

  Actually, this Gogmo’s Joru

  With his ugly looks is just a magical display.

  His shortness is just for looks,

  His spit and snot are amṛta,

  His fleas and lice are siddhis.

  If you look at him from the outside he is a wandering beggar child, while

  Inwardly he is the prince of the victorious ones;

  Secretly he is the embodiment of the Three Roots.

  By the evening of this very day,

  The difference between good and bad will be revealed.

  When this is revealed there will be no argument.

  The sun of happiness will dawn.

  The darkness of suffering will be cleared.

  If you understand this, it’s sweet to the ears.

  If not, there is no way to explain it.

  Drugmo, keep this in your mind.

  Then Kyalo Sengcham Drugmo thought, “Considering the swiftness of Wild Kyang, Joru’s magical displays, Nichung’s dreams, and all the astonishing signs that appeared when we captured the horse, how could there be any other winner than Joru?”

  But Trothung’s daughter Tromo-tso was rather offended [by this song]. Her body showed her displeasure, twisting like a black snake. Her disapproving head rocked back and forth like a ḍamaru; her hair swung with annoyance like a cow’s tail. Displeasure flashed in her eyes like bolts of red lightning, her nose like an elephant’s trunk scrunched up in annoyance, and her face swirled with black clouds of anger, her mouth raw with its quivering flesh. And she spoke, “Oh Ngolo’s daughter, listen here. You, the daughter whose father wanders the path of a mendicant, your arrogance seems to be higher than the azure firmament.

  A girl whose mother died of famine

  Still tossing her braid high up in the air.

  As it is, I don’t need your prophecies because my father Trothung has a prophecy from the Northern God,” she said, as she sang her own praises in a song with the melody of the Mind like a Whirlwind:

  It is Ala Ala Ala.

  Thala is the melody of the song.

  Northern God Red Hayagrīva, know me.

  May Father Trothung be raised to the sky.

  Please deliver the scarf of victory to Brother Dongtsen’s hands,

  Sustain the speed of the noble steed Turquoise Bird.

  Don’t be idle, don’t be idle, imperial gods!

  If you don’t recognize me,

  I am the daughter of the exalted father of Tag-rong,

  And the daughter of the wise mother Denza.

  Then listen here, Nichung,

  To this worldly proverb of Tibet:

  The worst land blows away like dust in the sky;

  Neither grass nor flowers can survive.

  The worst monk’s mind is driven by passion;

  He has neither dharma nor vows.

  The worst leader’s mind is full of deceit;

  He has neither karmic cause nor result.

  The worst mother with a headstrong daughter

  Has neither knowledge nor intuitive wisdom.

  Before knowing what the guru will chant,

  The monk jumps the gun and chants just nonsense.

  Before understanding what is required of a leader,

  The minister barks sharp reprimands.

  Before knowing what her master wants to eat,

  The servant girl is already yapping orders about the food.

  Even before she sees the four walls that will be her home,

  The servant is already consumed with avarice.

  Even without getting three square meals a day,

  The scrawny dogs still pretend to be the guards of their families.

  How could anything compare with the truth of these examples?

  Unworthy Mother Gogmo’s Joru

  Is short, but that is the final display of his manifestation;

  As this is his last such display, you should wait for him.

  You said his fleas and lice were siddhis;

  If so, then you should receive them.

  You said his spit and snot were amṛta;

  If so, then you should drink them.

  From Sidpa Kholmo Rogdzong,96

  The prophecy of Red Hayagrīva

  Says the scarf of victory will belong to Turquoise Bird

  And that he will come to be Sengcham’s bridegroom.

  It says that he will come to possess the wealth of the wager.

  The prophecy couldn’t possibly be mistaken.

  Look up and see the spectacle for the eyes.

  On the lower path of the divine white plain of Ling,

  This blue flag that seems to be carried by the wind

  Is the blue colt, swift Turquoise Bird;

  It looks like the horse is not running but flying.

  The man in white garments with a face like the moon

  Is Dongtsen Nang-ngu Apel;

  It looks like the man is not approaching, but rising

  Like the moon appearing in the sky.

  A man, a steed, a male dzo, these three—

  If there is nothing on the outside, there is nothing on the inside.

  Food as empty of nutrition as lungs that have exhaled their air—

  If it’s not good in your mouth, it won’t be good for you later.

  From the outside, he’s a wandering beggar boy;

  On the inside, his stomach meditates on emptiness.

  With the snap of a finger, someone will lose.

  Then your mind will be washed of happiness and your suffering will intensify.

  His little horse is not like a bird but more like a chick.

  He doesn’t look like he is racing; he seems to be swerving

  Like a scrawny dog that sniffs around.

  Gogmo’s little boy Joru,

  Seems to be snatching up the leftover crumbs of the brethren.

  If there is a scarf for the loser who comes in last,

  Whatever that is, Joru will get it.

  Only Dongtsen will get the victory scarf,

  Sister, there is no other winner!

  If you have understood this, it is sweet to your ears.

  If not, there is no way to explain it.

  Thus she sang this song, and Nichung thought, “If I give this girl an answer now, nothing will be resolved, but we’ll just drag down the clan of all the maidens. By tonight, the rightful one will be known.” With this in mind she sat there pretending not to have heard.

  At that point Sengcham Drugmo realized that Nichung was right; therefore she felt that it would be p
ointless to argue. She said, “Long life to you, sisters! Until this matter is finished, there’s no use in us arguing with each other. Listen to this discourse to determine what abundance the eyes can behold,” she said and sang this song in the melody of Six Modulations in Nine Pitches.

  It is Ala Ala Ala.

  Thala is the melody of the song.

  May the guru, yidam, ḍākinī, these three,

  Remain inseparable as my crown ornament,

  And may they grant their blessings.

  Hail to my playmates;

  When we were little we shared the job of taking care of the little lambs.

  When we were even younger, we were flower-picking companions,

  Friends who dressed up in soft lambskin chubas, and

  We were eating companions who shared delicious food.

  Listen to Sengcham’s song:

  You can’t predict which horse will be the fastest;

  But we will know it when the winning rider assumes the throne.

  You can’t say which boy is best;

  But it will be obvious when one of them assumes the kingdom of White Ling.

  As for knowing who will conquer the southern continent Jambudvīpa,

  There’s no need to bicker, we’ll know soon enough.

  For today,97 we view this spectacle,

  This horse race of colorful Ling.

  For those up to and including the highest lineage of chieftains,

  Down to and including the lowliest Gu-ru,

  The main booty is Drugmo, they say.

  I’m not so sure if Drugmo is the main draw here but,

  Their is the value of Kyalo’s great wealth [and]

  There are the precious valuable treasures.

  Among the Thirty Brethren who are all hoping to win this wager: Nyibum Daryag of Serpa,

  Anu Paseng of Ombu,

  Rinchen Darlu of Muchang, those three

  Are the Three Ultimate Warriors.

  To the enemies they are the ones called Falcon, Eagle and Wolf, those three, and

  They are the heart, eyes, and life force of White Ling.

  First, Gyatsha Zhalkar of Bumpa,

  Second, unrivalled Sengtag Adom,

  Third, Tshagyalc Denma Jangtra,

  Fourth, Chieftain Zigphen of Tag-rong,

  Fifth, Chökyong Bernag of Gadei,

  Sixth, Chölu Buyi Darphen,

  Seventh, Nya-tsha Aten of Tag-rong;

  These are the Seven Super Warriors.

  They are the hammers that strike the head of the enemy;

  They are like parents who watch over vulnerable relatives.

  They are the very ground for the existence of Ling.

  They are the leaders of the seven ten-thousandfold armies.

  First is Uncle King Chipön,

  Second is Senglön Gama-ri Kyei,

  Third is Mazhi Chieftain Trothung

  Fourth is the divine Namkha Sengzhal;

  These are the four paternal uncle brothers of Ling.

  The extent of their minds is vaster than space,

  The depth of their minds is deeper than the ocean.

  They are the men who hold the patriarchal castle of the diplomatic counsels.

  Among brethren they are the eldest statesman.

  Nangchung Yuyi Metog,

  Gung-gi Marleb of Rongtsha,

  Shelkar Gyangdrag of Mupa,

  Changtri Ngamchen of Ombu,

  Cho-nga Paser Dawa,

  Gungpa Buyi Kyatra,

  Chief Sengseng of Ca-nag,d

  Yuyag Gönpo Tongthub,

  Dongtsen Nang-ngu Apel,

  Gödpo Nyima Lhundrub,

  Bu-yag Drug-gyei of Kyalo,

  Buchung Daryag of Serpa, and

  Abar Buyi Phentag

  Are the Thirteen Cherished Sons of Ling,

  The newest ones to join the ranks of the warriors.

  They resemble lions with the three skills perfected,

  And are like garuḍa chicks with fully developed wings.

  Outwardly, they are like jagged poison thorns,

  Both sharp and painful.

  Inwardly, they are soft and gentle as a lambskin chuba,

  Both soft and comfortable.

  Among the brethren they form the lower rank,

  Among the valued they form the highest rank.

  Michen Gyalwa’i Lhundrub and

  Lingchen Tharpa Sönam

  Are the two men of karmic power.

  Gyapön Sergyi Arghaṃ and

  Tongpön Treltsei Shemchog

  Are the two unrelenting warriors.

  Those are the four miscellaneous tribes.

  When they stay in one place they are like Sumeru.

  When they advance they are like the royal parasol of the sun.

  They resemble the four stays that hoist the white tents.

  They are like the fourfold pillars from which the square home is built.

  They are the generals of the four tribes, and

  They are the highest-ranking chieftains among the fathers and uncles.

  Tönpa Gyaltsen of Kyalo, and

  Next, Guru Gyaltsen of Denma,

  Nyima Gyaltsen of Kar-ru, and

  Tharpa Gyaltsen of Nag-ru

  Are the four who carry the name Gyaltsen.

  Among those endowed with merit they excel.

  In the hierarchy they are in the middle, and

  When it comes to their victory record, they rank lower.

  First, Tsangpa’i Ngo-lug of Agê,

  Second, Dar-’jam Ngo-lug of Mupa,

  Third, Sintsha Ngo-lug of Tag-rong

  Are the three men who are called Sheep-a-Peep Ngo-lug.

  Their good looks are renowned among the masses.

  To glimpse their faces will cost a whole sheep;

  That’s exactly the reason they are called Sheep-a-Peep.

  First, the arbiter Werma Lhadar,

  Second, the judge Wangpo Darphen

  Are the two arbiters of Ling;

  They are the two men whose broad-mindedness is renowned.98

  They are the men who call together hundreds of meetings.

  No one can overrule their authority;

  No one can reverse their decisions.

  Those were the Thirty Brethren.e

  They are the reincarnations of the thirty mahāsiddhas from previous lifetimes;

  Now they have the honor of being the ThirtyBrethren.

  They are the men who stroke the whiskers of tigers,99

  They are the men who seize the horns of the wild yak,

  They are the men who grab the turquoise mane of the snow lion.100

  First, the doctor Künga Nyima,

  Second, the astrologer Lhabu Yangkar,

  Third, the diviner Künshei Thigpo, and,

  Fourth, the magician Khache Migmar—

  These men are the four minor warrior mentors.

  Here is the man who cuts the lasso of the Lord of Death.101

  Here is the man who dispels the invisible spells of enemies and spirits.

  Here is the man who directly reveals the future.

  Here is the man who as a last resort can confuse the minds of the enemy.

  You’d never make it without these four men.

  First, the Tibetan child Michung Khadei [Young Clever Mouth],

  Second, Gochöd [Handyman] Pagyal Tagyu [Victorious Warrior Tiger Horn], and

  Third, Akhöd Tharpa Zorna

  Are the Three Servants of Ling.

  First, Gu-ru son of Khyishi, and

  Second, the divine son Joru of Gogmo,

  Are the two beggars of Ling.

  By birth they are in the ancestral lineage of the mighty warriors.

  Furthermore here are some more examples:

  The wager among the brethren,

  If it goes well, will lay the groundwork for well-being in Jambudvīpa.

  If it goes poorly, I fear there will be war.

  Therefore, this girl has ordered things
like this:

  Those Three Ultimate Warriors, Falcon, Eagle, and Wolf,

  Are as exalted as the sun, the moon, and the stars.

  If one of them wins the wager, the treasure should go to all three.

  Set like jewels in the azure firmament,

  May their sovereignty be as all-encompassing as the sky.

  Those seven sublime Super Warriors,

  Resembling the seven golden mountains,

  Should unite to become the ornaments of the earth.

  May their fervor be as staunch as the earth.

  Those thirteen little Cherished Sons,

  Like the thirteen ancient arrows of existence,

  May they equally share and grace the tiger-skin quiver.

  Until the time comes to tame the enemies,

  May they continue to grace the ground of White Ling.

  If the buddha activity of the auspicious connection isn’t bungled,

  They will come to be the weapons that tame the four māras.

  I pray that the ancient arrows are not scattered.

  Those four very wise brethren

  Are like the four great rivers that flow from the mouths of four animals.102

  May they merge together as the ornament of the great ocean.

  They will come to suppress Jambudvīpa with their power.

  I pray they may flow on without interruption.

  Those four wise men from the miscellaneous tribes,

  Are like the four pillars that support a square house.

  Let them unite to adorn the noble ancestral castle.

  I pray that they will be immovable.

  Those four men who have earned the name Gyaltsen,

  Are like the four claws of the haughty white lion.

  May they unite to adorn the white snow mountains.103

  They will come to splendidly suppress the bestial enemies.

  I pray that they will never age or decline.

  Those three men who have earned the name Sheep-a-peep Ngo-lug

  Are like the sheath that perfects the beauty of the threefold panoply;

  May they unite and become the ornaments of the tigers in their prime.

  They must come in order to show they are the finest of all.

  I pray that their youth will never decline.

 

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