Sunday 31 March 2013

Dear folks of the snow land wandering all over the world,


For a long time I have this terribly headache. Only today I learned from my celestial physician that this has been caused by a few pesky people living amongst our folks in exile; by their conniving minds and watching too much of their flirty moves dancing to the tunes coming from behind the thick walls of the Gate of Heavenly Peace.

I have tried all kinds of medications, including drinking my own urine in the morning, applying a mixture of cow dung and caterpillar fungus on my forehead, standing naked in the middle of road  and even flying red-coloured prayer flags atop my rented room. Nothing worked.

Only when my celestial doctor told me at 8 this morning the cause of my long splitting headache, the pain has suddenly subsided. This made me realize that an apple day does not keep the doctor away. But knowing the rotten apples certainly does.

If you are having headache, stiff shoulder, heartache or your eardrums are at the point of bursting out because of non-stop bombardment of profane counterfactual bullshits or even nice-sounding notes using the Precious One's name or quoting him, let me know and I will guide you to my celestial doctor. He is really good. The only issue is his temper.

When he correctly diagnosed the cause of my headache this morning, he gave me a long lecture quoting Marquez, Trungpa and others. He must read a lot. “These people are confused donkeys fooled red ants, charlatan, swindlers and bloody bilkers. They are like parasites that transform the host, change form and continue to thrive,” he fumed. I think he was paraphrasing Murakami.

Some of them  are clever. They use democracy to find civil channels to filter their dirty plots. Some of them give themselves grand-sounding names and others write under nice identifies such as a bird or a name of a day and even claiming to be reincarnations.

‘Do you think you can buy my teachings with deception?’ Naropa once asked.

Let me ask you now:

Would you let these pesky people to buy up your legitimacy?

How can you let these little wretched stick onto you and suck your blood until you lose your strength to be who you are?

Do you want to be fooled by these fools?

What is the point of having knowledge if you don’t use it to chart your path?

Can you spit on their faces and cast them away like dirty water down your drain?

Do you know how these blasted buffoons get around our system with ease and poise?

Ahh! I am asking too many questions. I better stop or my blasters will never end.

I conclude with something that I wrote centuries ago:
Sinners hate the devouts, 
The rich hate spendthrifts, 
Wives hate mistresses ...

The impotent man has little imagination, 
Bastards have little virtue...

Yours truly,
Drukpa Kunley

Friday 15 March 2013

她在波士頓



在波士頓
Bhuchung D. Sonam 布瓊·D·索朗
 (原詩英文,中譯者 Pazu)


在戴維斯廣場的地鐵車站
在出口與角落之間
木長椅的對面
坐着織冷手套,無指手套
圍巾及猴子帽,
傾注於一根毛線,而地上
長方形的布鋪在跟前

跟行人打招呼
差點兒伸出舌頭
又把它卷回嘴裏
能從一數到十
用英文說好、謝謝
的孫女是的老師

坐在地上如一座山
手執織針
駕輕就熟地編織着
額前皺紋有如新月
眼中溢出的散光
有如日落

有時忽然停止編織
合十壓胸
,Yeshi Norbu(益西諾布),尊貴的
業力之風把我帶至
白人之地
我坐在這裏
就像是過去二十五年在別的地方那樣
祈願丹增嘉措的願望早日達成
祈願我能回家
是以才能死於安息。

早先在加德滿都
在大寶塔的轉經道
tsampa(糌粑)chura()
茶磚 跟塵土與火焰搏鬥

然後在達蘭薩拉
挨近寺門的小椅子上
叫賣 laphing(涼皮)momo(饃饃)aloo-khatsa(辣土豆)
每晚數算着殘破的盧比

之後在德里
往干諾廣場的人行道上
賣汗衣、夾克及 T
的念珠拂趕蚊子

如今在波士頓
在出口與長椅之間
一星期坐七天
編織手套、猴子帽、連指手套

我並不因這些旅程而疲累 但實在是等待很久了......

沿扶手電梯往上走
人群正急着回家


This translation appeared in iSun Affairs - http://www.isunaffairs.com/