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Long ago, in the distant past, they fell into decay
The philosopher's path The river of glory
Even the saints resting in the darkness
Rise up without response and block the way
Can you hear it,
The silent voice that calls to you?
Can you follow after it,
Grasping at the straws of ignorance? (1)
Rage, oh Indra,
With an anger hot enough to burn boulders,
Embracing the child of darkness
Who swings his sword in the nothingness!
They remain hidden away, unseen even in dreams
The golden flowers The songs of Shangri-La (2)
You are denied even a night of prayer
The rapids of time thrust you ever onward
Can you hear it,
The silent voice that calls to you?
Can you cross over to it,
Drinking the water of this impure river?
Rage, oh Indra,
With an anger hot enough to burn boulders,
Embracing the child of darkness
Who swings his sword in the nothingness!
Protect him, oh Indra,
This ignorant child,
And for but a brief moment,
Purge these roads of rage!