Chant on the Mountaintop

 

By An Ran

 

Rising with effort in the sun’s blazing flames,
stumbling in the mottled darkness beneath the cliff,
carefully stepping around a collapsed old dream—
even the last divine power
could not protect the ten-directional monastery.

 

On the empty cliff-top,
like Maudgalyayana holding up his alms bowl,
it receives the heavy burdens of a middle-aged heart.
Eyes closed, I recite
that primal revelation,
once,
twice—
the green wind in the valley
recites with me
this green scripture.

 

When I open my eyes,
I find myself facing the great hall carved into the mountainside.
Is the warrior who subdues all afflictions also listening?
Whether in Sanskrit or in Arabic,
what we chant
is nothing more than
a tablet of paracetamol
in the high fever of life.

 

 

山顶的吟唱

 

文/安然

 

在太阳的光焰里奋力上升，

在幽暗斑驳的山崖下

踯躅，

小心地绕过一个倾圮的旧梦，

最后的神通

也护不住十方丛林。

 

空无一人的崖顶，

如目连擎起的钵盂，

收留中年人的心事重重。

闭目诵念

那最初的启示，

一遍、

两遍，

山谷间碧绿的风声，

和我一起诵念

这绿色的经文。

 

睁开眼时，

发现遥对着那座依山开凿的大雄宝殿。

那位降伏一切烦恼的勇士也在倾听吗？

无论梵文还是回文，

我们吟唱的，

都不过是高热人生里的

一片扑热息痛。