Songs of Impermanence
by Milarepa
1.1 In the Bardo state the wanderer
is the Alaya. It stays nowhere,
Driven by one's own sorrow,
it enters a womb unknown.
Therein it feels like a fish
Caught into crevice of rock,
Sleeping in blood red and pus yellow,
In all discharges it must pillow.
Crammed in filth, it suffers pain,
From bad karma one is to gain,
Though remembering past lives,
It cannot count four or five.
Now scorched by heat,
Now cold it does meet.
For nine months it remains,
In the womb with all pains,
From womb by pliers as if pulled out,
Head is squeezed but safety is naught,
Like being thrown into a bramble,
When it bears all of a-tremble,
It's body on mother's lap with sorrow,
It feels gripped by a hawk like a sparrow.
When his body blood and dirt is cleansed,
Like flayed alive it's pain increased,
When umbilical cord is being cut,
It feels as if the spine does jut,
when wrapped in the cradle,
It feels bound to a girdle.
He who realizes not the truth of non-born
Never can escape from birth to be grown.
I.2. Suffering of Old-age
When one's body has been brought
To be frail and all worn out,
It dislikes old-age,
There is of this no doubt.
One's straight body becomes bent,
Steps are not firm and patent.
Black hairs turn white, arms have no might.
One's eye grow dim, ears are not keen.
The head shakes, Pale are cheeks.
Blood becomes dry, one feels to die.
One's nose will sink in,
Teeth can't chew anything.
Losing control of tongue,
Sweet sugar is not fun.
One gathers food and wine,
But one can't keep them fine.
Trying not to suffer anymore,
One only gets suffering in store.
When one is told the Truth,
But one's faith is not growth,
Though one has some kinsmen,
They all his foes become.
Though he hears some teaching,
But nothing is changing,
Unless one realizes the Truth of non-decay,
He has to suffer old-age and not be gay.
I.3. Suffering of Sickness
Besides sickness old man has nothing to gain.
From three main kinds of illness one suffers pain.
The blood pressure does so increase,
Troubles of organs cannot release,
In a safe easy bed, day and night,
The sick person feels no comfort nor might,
But toss about and groans in lament,
Through all the karma of defilement.
Though of some best foods he eats,
All that he takes he vomits.
When you lay him in a cool place
His heat still does not balance.
When you wrap him in some warm clothes,
He feels to an icy land close.
Though friends and kinsmen gather around,
No one sharing his pain can be found.
Though physicians are present at home,
No one can free him from harm.
He who learns not the truth of the sick,
For the Holy Dharma he has to seek.
I.4. Suffering of Death
To repay the compound debts,
One must suffer by one's death.
Yama's guards catch the one
Whose death-time comes so soon.
Rich cannot buy it off with gold,
Hero cannot cut it off with sword,
Neither can the clever woman outwit it by a strike
Nor can learned scholar refuse it by a teaching stick.
When all the big nerves converge,
One is crushed when two hills merge.
All visions become dim,
One remains with only sin.
Neither physicians nor gurus can
Prolong the life of the dying man.
Gods and devas vanish into naught,
Breath has no inhalation but out.
One can smell the dead flesh,
Like a lump of coal in ash.
When dying some still counts the dates,
Others blubber about their bad fate,
Some think of losing their health,
Others of their remaining wealth,
One loves the dead no matter how long,
He can but let the dead be alone.
To throw him in water of in the fire to burn,
Or buried under land, the dead will not return.
He who realizes not the Truth of Death,
Should prepare the Western-travel wealth.
