The Hundred Thousand Songs of Milarepa

by Tsangnyon Heruka

  I received the fierce mantra of Red and Black-Faced Rahula.*4

  Though he was learned in his tradition of practice,

  He could not quite cut my mistaken perceptions.

  Then the one who was blessed by Maitripa and Lord Naropa,

  Who was introduced to the mother-like dharmata of mind

  And mastered the key points of the body’s interdependence,

  “He resides at the site of Lho Chükhyer,” it was said.

  Renowned from afar, this father Lotsawa,

  Just hearing his name, my hairs stood on end.

  Traveling a difficult path, I came into his presence.

  When I saw his face, my outlook instantly changed.

  That he was a guru from former lifetimes was sure.

  For the one from Lhodrak, the peerless lord,

  That venerable one who was so kind

  I had no offering of material wealth to give,

  So with body and speech, I served by crushing rocks.*5

  I heard the profound tantra of Hevajra.

  In particular, I received Naropa’s path of means.

  For Chakrasamvara, who’s endowed with blessing,

  I received all the ripening path’s four abhishekas.

  The dharma of Mahamudra was pointed out,

  And I saw the essence of mind, the innate reality.

  I realized the base, the dharmata free of elaboration.

  For the four streams of the whispered lineage*6

  I collected all the key instructions of great quality

  And drew out the vital essence of the profound key points.

  For practice, I meditated on nadi, prana, and bindu

  And attained mastery of the points of prana and mind.

  I, therefore, am a yogi of space.

  The four inner elements are thoroughly mixed;34

  I have no fear of the outer element of water.

  Before, I was merely testing you out.35

  My monastery is Gyal-gyi Shri Mountain.

  This morning, I came from Upper Koktang,

  And tonight it’s not certain where I shall wander.

  This is the way for a yogi like me.

  Young man, be happy, and go where you please.

  When the Jetsun had sung this, the young man’s faith grew even stronger and tears flowed freely. He took the reins of his black horse, offered them to the Jetsun’s hand, and then offered this song:

  Here’s a siddha whom I’ve never seen before;

  A being, beyond all ordinary humans;

  A buddha, difficult to meet face to face;

  A nirmanakaya whose speech is difficult to encounter.

  I have never heard your name.

  I did not recognize your face.

  I have never prostrated to you.

  I have never inquired of your health.

  Though I have regret, still I ask,

  Lord, kindly please forgive my shame.

  My black horse with wings of the wind,

  His neck is beautified with a breast-strap*7 and bell.

  Upon his coat of good pedigree,

  Lies a saddlecloth of yak hair, soft and warm,

  And a regal saddle, made of white oak.

  Ornate iron buckles are added to the cinch.

  The crupper and breastplate are tied with fine knots of red rope.

  At the nape of the horse’s magical bridle

  Is a tiger’s fur with finely drawn stripes;36

  It’s embossed with a mirror that shines bright like a star.

  With control of the reins you can turn him around.

  A white cane whip will deliver its command.

  When he performs in the king’s father’s memorial festival*8 37

  And the flag is planted at the finish line,

  Without a doubt this is the stallion that wins the prize.*9

  He’s a true prize for this worldly man.

  Because I offer this horse to the father Jetsun,

  Please, great sorcerer, don’t send me to the hells.

  Having sung this song, he offered his horse, but the Jetsun wouldn’t accept it.

  “I have a horse that is far better than the one you have,” he said, and sang this song of realization:

  Benefactor son, listen here this once,

  I have the stallion of consciousness and prana

  Greatly extolled with meditative equipoise.

  He has a coat of illusory postmeditation

  And the saddle of luminous self-awareness.

  The three nails to be observed*10 are added to the cinch.

  His crupper and breastplate are the two gates’ upadeshas.

  On the nape of the bridle, the prana-control practice,

  Are the three nose-points*11 that are finely drawn.38

  It’s embossed with the waves of inner peace.

  Physical trulkhor*12 is what turns him around.

  He’s whipped by the continual flow of experience

  And gallops on the plain of the avadhuti.

  That is the horse of this yogi here.

  If I gallop away, I’m liberated from samsara’s muck;

  If I pursue, I arrive at the dry land of enlightenment.

  I have no desire for your black horse,

  So, young man, you can pursue your own way.

  When the Jetsun had sung this, it became clear to the young man that Milarepa would not accept his horse. However, seeing that Milarepa was barefoot, the young man thought, “Perhaps he could use my boots.” He took off his embossed boots, and offered this song:

  Precious yogi siddha lord,

  Since you have no attachment to your homeland,

  You wander the lands with no fixed direction

  Where there are angry dogs with weapon-like teeth

  And brambles and defiles that torment your feet.

  Since walking barefoot is so wearisome,

  These blue boots will be your faithful servants.

  Valuable threads of silk were used

  To make embroidery beautiful to the eye.

  Embossed brass buckles are placed thereon.

  Fine leather of Upper Gungtang,

  And leather from a wild yak’s underbelly

  Were joined together by a craftsman with skill.

  On the miraculous handcrafted39 bootstraps

  Are engraved lion heads and crocodiles.*13

  They are the stylish dress of this young lad.

  Jetsun, please wear these on your feet

  And accept me with compassion.

  After he sang and offered the boots in that way, the Jetsun said, “I will not accept them. I have boots here that are far better than yours.” Then he sang this song of realization in reply:

  Young man with faith, listen here.

  In this homeland of the three realms of samsara,

  The darkness of ignorance densely gathers.

  The mire of passion is full of filthy muck.

  The rocky plain of jealousy has rugged barbs.

  The wild dog of aggression bites and gnaws.

  The rocky mountain of pride has precipitous cliffs.

  Having crossed the four great rivers,*14

  I escaped to the field of great bliss.

  The illusory leather of impermanence, the cause,*15

  And the leather sole of revulsion toward samsara

  I join with confidence in karma, cause and effect.

  On the bootstraps of the myriad sensory pleasures40

  Are the silk threads of freedom from attachment to my own perceptions

  And the embossed brass buckles of accomplishment and practice.

  Then I add the belt of the three points to bind.*16

  These are the boots this yogi has;

  For your embossed ones, I have no desire.

  Benefactor, you may go on to your own home.

  When Milarepa would not accept the boots, again the young man spoke: “Jetsun, very well, even if you will not accept the boots, with nothing but a sing
le cloth to wear, it must get very cold. Please, you must accept this red and green coat.” And he offered this song:

  Precious guru, siddha lord,

  You don’t take any place to be your own,

  Thus, with no fixed reference, you roam around.

  Sometimes you go to the mountain peaks.

  Sometimes you sleep on the village streets.

  A single cotton cloth is the same as having no clothes.

  Dwelling with naked body, you must get cold.

  The garment on this young man’s body

  Was made from red and green raw silk of Mendri*17

  And sewn together by a skillful craftsman.

  Its lining is stuffed with filling white as a cloud.41

  The chest piece is decorated with a silk brocade.42

  The top is embellished with the fur of lynx.

  The lower hem is made from an otter’s fur.

  The sleeves are crafted from excellent silk.

  If you wear it, you’ll look majestic and radiant.

  You won’t have distress about cold gusts of wind.

  It’s the excellent garment a Zhang minister*18 would don.

  Father Jetsun, please take it and wear it.

  I ask you, with your kindness, please grant me refuge.

  Though he supplicated in this way, the Jetsun would not accept and replied, “I have a better coat than the one you have.” Then he sang this song of realization:

  Listen young man, with the smart tongue!

  In general, in the city of samsara’s six realms

  With the wind of negative karma forcefully driving me,

  My consciousness powerlessly roamed around.

  It roamed the field of the bardos of birth and death,

  It went to the mountain peak of the bardo of dreams,

  And it slept on the crossroads of the bardo of becoming.

  I pursued the primordial eternal land.

  Made from the raw silk of perfect purity,

  It’s enwrapped by the silk of the samaya vows

  And is sewn by the craftsman of mindfulness and awareness.

  The chest piece with its shape of the three yogas

  Is embellished with the Three Vital Points of Mixing.*19

  The sleeves of luminosity at the moment of death

  Are joined with the pure illusory body,

  Then the hem of the bardo’s pointing-out is sewn.

  That is the coat of this yogi.

  I do not want your red and green one.

  Young benefactor, go happily, as you please.

  Then the young man said, “Jetsun, if you will not accept the coat, because your clothes are so thin, you must, please, accept the coat’s mantle.” Then he supplicated him with this song:

  Now, you precious, supreme being,

  When the great heat of the three summer months emerges

  And the melodious call of the cuckoo is heard,

  Though you dwell nakedly, you don’t chill at all.

  But in the three months of winter, the earth falls breathless;

  The single cotton cloth you wear is thinner than silk;

  The new year’s icy wind will sting more harshly than an arrow

  And the father Jetsun will suffer the chill.

  This mantle of the red and green coat

  Is made of white cloth with a spotted pattern

  And hemmed with dark-colored raw silk.

  The chest piece made of satin there

  Is covered with a blend of five-hued cloth.

  The upper cloth is handcrafted with embroidery.

  That is the garment of this young man.

  Through this offering of clothes to the Repa Lord,

  Look on me with compassion, I pray.

  Though he offered in this way, the Jetsun again did not accept. “I have an even better garment than you have,” he said, and sang this song of realization in reply:

  Listen now, to this kind father!43

  Forcefully led by the confusion of ignorance,

  I went, without seeing, to frightful cliffs.

  The gales of the afflictions had both great heat and cold.

  The results of bad karma, like rain, poured down.

  Now I’ve escaped to the city of liberation.

  On the white cloth made of chandali’s ashé,

  Is the chest piece of the nadi’s four chakras.*20

  The hems of inner prana and mind are joined.

  The brocade of the heat of bindu’s blaze and drip

  Is enwrapped by seams of the experience of bliss and emptiness in union.

  It’s the coemergent garment of chandali.

  For the clothes of inner chandali, there is no summer or winter.

  Though outwardly garments of wool are lovely,

  A single cotton cloth is light and comfortable.

  I have no desire for your garments there.

  So, benefactor, go on to your home.

  When Milarepa had sung this, again, the young man made an offering: “Jetsun, though you won’t accept this clothing, since you have practiced so much since last year, your body has become weak; I offer you my hat so that you can trade it for some meat to restore your body.” Then he sang this song of offering:

  O yogi, supreme being,

  You gave rise to weariness for the things of samsara

  And wished for liberation from birth and death.

  Thus, intending to practice with one-pointed focus,

  You have undergone many great hardships

  And your body has become wearied by the sufferings of cold.

  This hat that I wear upon my head

  Is a sparkling hat from India.

  This wondrous and precious silver plate

  Was made by skillful craftsmen there.

  On the inside and outside is crocodile hide

  And it has been embossed by hand.

  A vulture feather is placed upon its crest

  And the chinstrap is a regal crystal garland.

  If appraised, it’d be worth the price of a large yak.

  Nirmanakaya, I offer this to you.

  Exchange it for a variety of nutritious meat.

  Please, father Jetsun, restore your body.

  Please let me follow and attend you in summer and winter.

  The Jetsun did not accept the offering and sang this song of realization in reply:

  Listen, young man, don’t let your eyes be deceived:

  This lineage son of the great scholar Naropa

  Has gained mastery over the key points of tendrel, the path,

  And has perfectly familiarized with the profound methods.

  Thus, I’ve no fear toward the inner elements of wind;

  This doesn’t depend on a variety of nutritious meat.

  Cold wind, you may do as you please!

  As to the crown upon my head:

  It’s beautified with clarity, like sun and moon ornaments.

  The wish-fulfilling jewel, lord, nirmanakaya

  Translator, whose name is renowned far and wide,

  He sits there beautified with charnel-ground ornaments.

  If you know how to look with the eye of respect,

  You will meet the face of glorious Vajradhara.

  It’s certain he’ll protect you with love like a son.

  That is the hidden, inner crown.

  The outer pandit’s hat of India is lovely,

  But to throw such a hat away is the very hat I wear.44

  I have no desire for your hat.

  Young man, go happily to where you were going!

  Then the young man thought, “The Jetsun’s continual refusals must mean all that I have offered to him is too insignificant.” With that, he untied a piece of precious turquoise that was around his neck, and offered this song:

  Well then, supreme and wondrous being,

  Having practiced and practiced without attachment,

  Since you see all that arises as illusion,

  You have no desi
re for objects and wealth.

  And I, powerlessly, have given rise to faith.

  If this child, through generosity, doesn’t offer to you

  The wealth and food amassed by his father,

  The gods of the heavens would be disgusted;

  And tomorrow onward, this man’s mind would be steered by evil.

  Thus, Lord, please don’t say you don’t want it.

  This white turquoise with great luster,

  A bright lamp of the Shuyé clan:*21

  A soft leather strap is threaded through it

  And it is placed upon red silk.

  If sold, it would free the world of poverty.

  I offer it for the neck of this genuine lord.

  With kindness, grant the genuine dharma.

  With this song he offered the turquoise, but again the Jetsun didn’t accept.

  “I have no desire for your turquoise, for I have an even more precious jewel than that.” Then Milarepa sang this song of realization:

  Benefactor son, listen to this kind father!

  Within the expanse of this vast land

  This yogi has wandered distant paths.

  At crowded crossroads of the towns,

  For provisions, once daily, I beg for small morsels.

  I have revulsion for delicious, sweet food.

  With mundane wealth, there’s never any contentment.

  When I see the wealth that’s been hoarded left behind,*22

  I have no wish for your rich man’s wealth.

  I am the king of contentment and within my treasury

  Is the precious jewel of the whispered lineage.

  It is inlaid with practice and experience,

  Cleaned with mindfulness that doesn’t forget,

  And its eye is threaded with the four-session yoga.

  My mind is adorned with the child of awareness

  So I have no desire for your turquoise necklace.

  Son, go happily on your way.

  When the Jetsun had sung this song of realization, the young man thought, “Is this Jetsun nirmanakaya not accepting me because he sees that I have committed negative deeds?” Then he said to Milarepa, “Holy being, though you don’t have any regard for illusory wealth, I now offer you these three weapons.*23 From now on I will abandon the use of weapons, and take the vow never to take life. With your kindness, you must grant me refuge.” Offering Milarepa his carrying pouch*24 and gear, he offered this song: