Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE PILGRIMS OF THIBET, by CALE YOUNG RICE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE PILGRIMS OF THIBET, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Down the road to llassa
Last Line: Till we to nirvana come.
Subject(s): Greed; Life; Pilgrimages & Pilgrims; Tibet; Avarice; Cupidity


Down the road to Llassa,
Himalayan and strange,
I thought I saw them winding
From range to lower range,
The seekers after Buddha,
Across the ice and cold,
And from their lips the mystic phrase
Of merit ever tolled:

'Om mane padme, hum!'
Life is but a way of lust.
Turn the wheel and beat the drum,
Till we to Nirvana come.

Clothed in rags and turquoise
And necklaces of skulls,
And shoes of yak worn furless,
And fleece the shepherd culls,
With faces like to parchments
Whereon alone was writ
The repetition of these words
Of wonder infinite:

'Om mane padme, hum!'
Life is but a robe of lust.
Turn the wheel and beat the drum
Till we to Nirvana come.

Down the road ascetic
And desert bleak and drear,
I thought I saw them winding
To Llassa walls more near;
Strong man and maid and mother,
Shorn youth and sexless age,
That ever to the wind intoned
Their one acquitting page:

'Om mane padme, hum!'
Grief is but the goal of lust.
Turn the wheel and beat the drum,
Till we to Nirvana come.

Past the hermit's cavern --
Where he alone drew breath! --
Past nunneries where silence
Waits, acolyte of death;
Past shrines of lesser power,
Where smiling idols wear
The bliss upon their gilded lips
Of the all-granting prayer.

'Om mane padme, hum!'
Leave the life of flesh and lust.
Turn the wheel and beat the drum,
Till we to Nirvana come.

Down the road -- and down it,
I saw them, lama-led,
Mid holy lakes and mountains,
And monasteries fed
With endless alms and measured
By slow prostrations round,
And by the chanted syllables
That sprung as from the ground:

'Om mane padme, hum!'
Life is but the lair of lust.
Turn the wheel and beat the drum,
Till we to Nirvana come.

Then at last to Llassa
They reach -- I see them yet! --
And touch the gods on altars
Above all others set.
Monk, man and maid and mother,
Upon the Wheel of Things,
From which escape shall come alone
To him who ceaseless sings:

'Om mane padme, hum!'
End the life of greed and lust.
Turn the wheel and beat the drum,
Till we to Nirvana come.





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