What are you telling?
I seem to see the alley of my youth, the wind blowing, awakening the silent wind chimes.
I seem to see the dimples when you smile, and the fragrance in the mist shakes the silent soul.
I seem to see the shepherds on the banks of Qinghai Lake. The fragrance of wine is filled with lonely infatuation.
——Inscription
Origin.
I raise the wind horse, not to pray for blessings, but to wait for your arrival.
I closed my eyes in the fragrant mist of the Sutra Hall, and suddenly heard the mantra of your chanting.
Your eyes like grapes are the best wine, and I am intoxicated at the sight of it; your voice like the oriole is ancient divine music, and I am ecstatic as soon as I hear it; your hair like waterfalls is the best silk, and I can't put it down as soon as I touch it. How can I stay lonely in the Potala Palace, which has been silent for thousands of years? How can I forget your face in my heart that has been silent for a long time?
The calamity of this life is the fruit of your sowing.
A chance encounter, a sudden look back, a meeting of eyes, everything became clear in an instant.
Can’t escape. Don't ask whether it's a sin or fate.
Living in the Potala Palace, I am Vidyadhara Tsangyang Gyatso; living in Lhasa at the foot of the mountain, I am a prodigal sonDangsang Wangbo.
I am dazzled by the thought of you. If I can practice this way, I will become a Buddha in this body in this life.
You come from a beautiful place, Qiongjie; you have a beautiful name, Dolma. You called my name softly with the most beautiful voice. This moment seems like a thousand years.
I listened to Sanskrit singing all night, not for enlightenment, but just to find a trace of your breath.
I shake all the prayer wheels, not for salvation, but just to touch your fingertips.
Why do you want to appear? Why leave?
Love is separated, resentment lasts for a long time, cannot ask for, cannot let go.
But there is no more news from you.
That moment, that day; that day, that night; that month, that year; that life, that moment.
How far are your fingertips from me?
This feeling fades away like a dream, and the flowers in the mirror and the moon in the water are not real.
I can’t see the past, I can’t tell the truth from the false. Have you ever come to me, or do you only meet me in dreams?
No matter how bad the frost is, the people in Li hate the west wind.
Nowadays, the grass is withering and the flowers are withering. Is it just because of the cold west wind that you hide away from the cold? Then, come back to me when the flowers bloom in spring? Or are you also sentimental about this situation, so you can't bear to let me see you crying? But, so what? Your tears are like treasures to me, how could I let them fall easily? With you at the top of my heart, how can I contain the rising sandalwood and the mantras of ancient scriptures?
That life I go around mountains, rivers, and pagodas, not to cultivate the next life, but to meet you on the way.
At that moment, I ascended to immortality, not for immortality, but for your safety and happiness.
The blue Qinghai Lake and the white cranes, please allow me to sleep here forever, guarding the person in my heart.The flowers turn green in spring, and the leaves fall in autumn. I don’t seek to become a Buddha or live forever, I only seek her happiness throughout her life.
But we know each other once we have seen each other. It is better to see each other than not. Ande and the king are determined to be together, and there is no need to worry about life and death.
The transparent lake water wrapped my body in warmth. I looked up with a smile. How lucky I was that at the last moment, what I saw was still your smiling face as brilliant as a mountain flower, at the moment when you and I met.
The world is safe and sound,I will live up to Tathagata and live up to you.
Your fingertips are right in front of my eyes.
But it’s been a long time.
Postscript: After reading Tsangyang Gyatso’s poem that day, I felt deeply in my heart, so I wrote this note, not to praise, but to mourn.
