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A Song of Solitude

[dropcaps color=’#393939′ background_color=” border_color=” type=”]‘T[/dropcaps]his mountain land full of meadows and

bright flowers is a joyful place.

In the forest trees dance

and monkeys play,

birds give voice to all kind of beautiful song

and bees weave and float.

Delicious summer and winter rain cascades,

Autumn and spring mists roll in,

The rainbow sparkles might and day.

In such solitude Mila, the cotton-clad one,

finds his joy.

I contemplate the emptiness of all things

and see the clear light,

Happy when all manner of things appear

before me: the more things that appear the happier I become,

For my body and mind are free of evil.

Happy I am as things whirl about me –

In their coming and going I remain happy,

for free am I of passion’s rising and falling.

In the very contre of visions I am happy,

for free of passion am I.

Happy in the turning of sorrow to joy,

happy in my body’s strength,

Happy in the triumphant songs I sing,

in my running and leaping dance,

Happy at the turning into words

of the sounds I hum,

Happy in my spontaneous power.’

A Song of Solitude, by Tibetan poet Milarepa


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