His Holiness the Sixth Dalai Lama, Tsangyang Gyatso: (The sixth Dalai Lama and Gedun Choephel are two of my greatest inspirations in the field of Art and Poetry) In order to complete the Potala Palace, Desi Sangye Gyatso carried out the wishes of the Fifth Dalai Lama and kept his death a secret for fifteen years. People were told that the Great Fifth was continuing his long retreat. On important occasions the Dalai Lamas ceremonial gown was placed on the throne. However, when Mongol princes insisted on having an audience, an old monk called Depa Deyrab of Namgyal Monastery, who resembled the Dalai Lama, was hired to pose in his place. He wore a hat and eyeshadow to conceal the fact that he lacked the Dalai Lamas piercing eyes. The Desi managed to maintain this charade till he heard that a boy in Mon exhibited remarkable abilities. He sent his trusted attendants to the area and in 1688, the boy was brought to Nankartse, a place near Lhasa. There he was educated by teachers appointed by the Desi until 1697, when the Desi sent his trusted minister, Shabdrung Ngawang Shonu to the Manchu court to inform Emperor Kang-si of the death of the Fifth and discovery of the Sixth Dalai Lama. He announced the fact to the people of Tibet, who greeted the news with gratitude and joy and thanked the Desi for saving them from lamenting the setting of the sun and, instead, making them rejoice in its rising. The Desi invited the Fifth Pachen Lama, Lobsang Yeshi, to Nankartse, where Tibet[s second highest religious leader administered the vows of a novice monk to the youth and named him Tsangyang Gyatso. In 1697, the fourteen-year old was enthroned as the Sixth Dalai Lama in a ceremony attended by Tibetan government officials representing the three major monasteries - Sera, Gaden, and Drepung - Mongol princes, representatives of Emperor Kang-si and the Lhasa populace. In 1701 there was a conflict between the Desi and Lhasang Khan, the descendant of Gushir Khan, and the latter killed the Desi Sangya Gyatso, which disturbed the young Dalai Lama. He left his monastic study and chose the outdoor life, he had no plans to take the fully ordained vows. In fact, he visited the Panchen Lama in Shigatse and requested his forgiveness, and renounced even the vows of a novice monk. Though he continued to live in the Potala Palace, he roamed around Lhasa and other outlying villages, spending his days with his friends in the park behind the Potala Palace and nights in taverns in Lhasa and Shol (an area below the Potala) drinking chang and singing songs. He was known to be a great poet and writer and he wrote several poems. In 1706, he was invited to China and died on the way. Songs of His Holiness the 6th Dalai Lama, Tsangyang Gyatso Extraordinary as a lover of wine and women, melodious as a singer of love songs and above all, tragic as a national hero of the status of a Dalai Lama, reduced to become a heroic pawn at the hands of the Qosot Lhazang Khan, the Sixth Dalai Lama became a legend within his short lifetime. Worshipped and loved by Tibetan people with stainless faith, Tsangyang Gyatsos songs became famous in every corner of Tibet receiving once again the fascination of simple folk poetry. White crane! Lend me your wings I will not fly far From Lithang, I shall return So wrote a desolate and lonely Tsangyang Gyatso (whose name means Ocean of Melodious Songs), the Sixth Dalai Lama of Tibet, wrote to a lady-friend of his in Shol town in 1706, when he was being forcibly taken away to China by the Mongol soldiers of Qosot Lhazang Khan — away from his people and the Potala palace. No one understood the hidden meaning contained in the song nor did anyone suspect that the young Dalai Lama had decided to end his earthly manifestation and yield the Tibetan spiritual and temporal realm to the care of the next Dalai Lama. But when that very year the sad and shocking news of the disappearance or more probably the murder of Tsangyang Gyatso at Gunga-Nor lake spread across Tibetan landscape, the secret meaning of last of his many songs dawned on the grief-stricken and bewildered Tibetan masses who dearly longed for his presence during a turbulent turn of history, and anxiously looked towards Lithang for the next incarnation. It may be more correct and safer to state that some of the verses indirectly show his deep knowledge and practice of of tantra, as it is clear from the one song in which he has claimed: Never have I slept without a sweetheart Nor have I spent a single drop of sperm The claim of control over his flow of sperm openly declared his grasp and mastery of tantric practices. Of exceptional interest in the tale of three sandalwood trees Tsangyang Gyatso planted close to each other before leaving Tawang. He prophesied that the trees would grow identical to each other on the day he would once again visit Tawang. In 1959, the local people noticed to their amazement that the three sandalwood trees were growing equal to each other in size and had become identical in shape. Unfortunately, the trees caught fire which plunged the local people into anxiety and dismay. Soon afterwards they heard of the unrest in Tibet caused by the Chinese invasion, and after a week-long spectacle of crowds of foreign and Indian pressmen, security personnel and unusual suspense, they saw that the Dalai Lama had indeed come to Tawang once again, this time as Great Fourteenth, on his way to exile in India. . . . . . . . . . . . . . Over the eastern hills rises The smiling face of the moon; In my mind forms The smiling face of my beloved . . . . . . . . . . . . . Yesterdays young sprouting shoots Are withered straws today, Like the ageing body of a youth Stiff bent as a southern bow . . . . . . . . . . . . . If only I could wed The one whom I love, Joys of gaining the choicest gem From the oceans deepest bed would be mine . . . . . . . . . . . . . She smells sweet of body My sweetheart, the highway queen; Like the worthless white turquoise She was found, to be thrown away . . . . . . . . . . . . . Longing for the landlords daughter Blossoming in youthful beauty Is like pining for peaches Ripening on the high peach trees . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sleepless I am Because I am in love; Fatigue and frustration overwhelm When day brings not my beloved to me . . . . . . . . . . . . . Spring flowers fade in the fall; It is not for the turquoise bees to mourn. I and my sweetheart are fated to part; It is not for us to cry . . . . . . . . . . . . . Frost gathers on the glistering flowers And then the cold north wind blows. The frost and the wind must have come To drive the bees away from the flowers . . . . . . . . . . . . . I have hoisted prayer-flags For the good luck of my beloved. Forest keeper, Ajo Shelngo, Do not trample her good luck flags . . . . . . . . . . . . . I incline myself To the teachings of my lama But my heart secretly escapes To the thoughts of my sweetheart . . . . . . . . . . . . . Even if meditated upon, The face of my lama comes not to me, But again and again comes to me The smiling face of my beloved . . . . . . . . . . . . . If I could meditate upon the dharma As intensely as I muse on my beloved I would certainly attain enlightenment Surely, in this one lifetime . . . . . . . . . . . . . When my luck was good I hoisted auspicious prayer-flags And the young lady of noble birth Hosted me at her home . . . . . . . . . . . . . Your sweet smile is To steal away my young heart. If your love for me is true, Promise me so From the depths of your heart . . . . . . . . . . . . . When the gem was mine I cared not, and ignored its value. Now that the gem is lost to others, Melancholy overwhelms me As its pure worth dawns on me . . . . . . . . . . . . . My sweetheart who truly loved me Has been stolen to wed another. I am sick with longing sorrow And frustration emaciates my frail body . . . . . . . . . . . . . In my dreams often I see my lost beloved; A soothsayer I must seek To search for her soon for me . . . . . . . . . . . . . If the maiden will live forever The wine will flow evermore. The tavern is my haven; With wine I am content . . . . . . . . . . . . . My beloved from childhood Seems to be of the wolfs race; Even after many nights together She tries to escape, Like the wolves, to the hills . . . . . . . . . . . . . To the wings of this eagle The wind and the rocks have been cruel. The sly and scheming ones Have harassed me, always without ceasing . . . . . . . . . . . . . Pink clouds Hide frosts and hailstorms; He who is a half-monk Is a hidden enemy of the dharma . . . . . . . . . . . . . The moon tonight seems To be the full moon, But the hare* inside the moon Does not seem to be alive * Refers to a Tibetan belief that a giant hare resides in the moon . . . . . . . . . . . . . Like the rising moon of the third day My beloved is dressed is pure and white, But on the full moon of the fifteenth day Take an oath of meeting as pure and bright . . . . . . . . . . . . . Even the stars in the sky Can be measured by astrology. Her body can be caressed, But not so fathomed Her deep inner longing . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sweetheart awaiting me in my bed Yielding tenderly her sweet soft body, Has she come to cheat me And disrobe me of my virtues? . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peacocks from eastern India, Parrot from the depths of Kongpo, Though born in separate countries Finally come together In the holy land of Lhasa . . . . . . . . . . . . . People gossip about me. I am sorry for what I have done; I have taken three thin steps And landed myself in the tavern of my mistress . . . . . . . . . . . . . In the short walk of this life We have had our share of joy. Let us hope to meet again In the youth of our next life . . . . . . . . . . . . . The garrulous parrot Please stay with your mouth shut. The thrush in the willow grove Has promised to sing a song for me . . . . . . . . . . . . . Yama, the mirror of my karma Residing in the realm of death, You must judge and grant justice. Here, while alive, I had no justice
Posted on: Fri, 18 Jul 2014 12:33:23 +0000
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