A Song of Compassion
Painting by Drugu Choegyal Rinpoche
A Song of Compassion
by Shabkar Tsokdruk Rangdrol
My heart goes out to all those who are now suffering,
My very own mothers who have cared for me so kindly,
Throughout the whole of time, from its very beginnings until now.
These kind mothers of mine helped to cool me when I was hot,
But now some have taken birth in the eight hot hells
To be tormented by the searing heat—my heart goes out to them!
These mothers of mine gave me warmth when I was cold,
But now some have taken birth in the eight cold hells
To be tormented by the freezing cold—my heart goes out to them!
These mothers of mine gave me food and drink in my hunger and thirst,
But now some have taken birth in the preta realm
To be tormented by famine and drought—my heart goes out to them!
These kind mothers of mine always cared for me with love,
But now some have taken birth among the animals
To be tormented by servitude and exploitation—my heart goes out to them!
These kind mothers of mine lovingly gave me whatever I desired,
But now some have taken birth among human beings
To be tormented by the pains of ageing and death—my heart goes out to them!
These kind mothers of mine shielded me from every harm,
But now some have taken birth among the asuras
To be tormented by conflict and strife—my heart goes out to them!
These kind mothers of mine nurtured me and brought me only benefit,
But now some have taken birth among the gods
To be tormented by death and transmigration—my heart goes out to them!
By yourselves, you have no chance to escape saṃsāra’s pains,
And for now you lack the power to provide your own protection—
O my mothers, undergoing all this suffering, my heart goes out to you!
When I consider these sufferings which we all endure,
I think to myself, ‘If only I could gain enlightenment!
Let it not be tomorrow, but let it come to me today!’
Swiftly, ever so swiftly, may I gain awakening,
And, having done so, dispel all beings’ pain,
Leading them all to perfect bliss, I pray!
When groups of poor folk, who have never had sufficient food or clothing, came begging at the door of my retreat hut again and again, I was overcome with feelings of compassion deep within my heart, and, shedding many tears, wrote these words.
| Text provided through the kindness of Alak Zenkar Rinpoche. Translated by Adam Pearcey, 2008. Revised 2012.