Ambapali.

AMBAPALI. Across the forested peaks where the hermits roam And the birds sit contently on the vultured peak Where the clouds play hide and seek with the sun Covering the adjoined plains with the trees of teak. Ambaplai the royal courtesan Bathed in morning sunshine awakes and stretches After the night of some perfumed pleasures Her silken robes her maid now fetches. A legend holds that Ambapali was abandoned at birth In the forest grove amid animals and the bird cruises Where creatures of deep gathered around winged birds Fed her on the forest fruits and the golden mango juices. Through the glittering window a breeze strode She stretched out for comfort but a sadness rose Within her heart she felt some vacant space Something strange was happening to her, she froze. A gaily-painted elephant passing in the street The dance of peacock in yellow and ultramarine The impassioned warblings of the flying crane The cooing of the koel now calling for her mate. A maid came in and told her a strange story That a prince has come to visit her city But a prince without any kingdom or the riches No royal robes he wore but only dross of stitches. Under the trees of the lengthening shadows Ambapali walked on in the evening light To the place where the prince held his assembly Though burdened in heart but trying to feel bright. The monks with yellow robes surrounded the place When they saw her they pointed out with scornful gesture That she should just turn back without polluting the place As city courtesan she should be ashamed to show her face. As there was a commotion among the gathering crowd And Buddha noticed a female struggling to reach Let my daughter come, please make for her a way No one is barred from my assembly with or without a say. When she approached the radiant figure sitting on dais Suddenly something broke within her and a flood issued She could not hold back running tears from her eye’s wreath And fell on the saviour’s feet drenching the ground beneath. Lord I have found a refuge for myself under thy feet Please accept a poor woman like me as your disciple I offer you all my riches and estate of the mango grove Will renounce the whole world just for thy blessed face. In her tears there was a ceaseless flight Of birth and death and of all that chides Ceasing by the end to the quenchless light Beyond the mortal eyes, there limitless resides. Listen monks, listen all the noble assembly I have found that there is none outcast to receive my teaching That there is no cast imbedded in tears or in blood or suffering My kruna is for those who suffer when their blood is shed My pity lies for those who shed tears when their heart is bled. I will accept you My fair daughter In my sangha And let the assembly recite According to my custom. OM MANI PADME HUM ! OM MANI PADME HUM ! Written March 16th, 2002 © on Apr 16 2002 03:14 AM PST   0 • 13