Woodblock to Laser

[This document can be acquired from a sub-directory coombspapers via
anonymous FTP or COOMBSQUEST gopher on the node COOMBS.ANU.EDU.AU or
ANU Soc.Sci.WWW Server at http://coombs.anu.edu.au/CoombsHome.html]

The document's ftp filename and the full directory path are given in
the coombspapers top level INDEX files]

[This version: 23 March 1994]
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
TITLE: In Praise of the ACIP CD-ROM: Woodblock to Laser
AUTHOR: GELEK Rinpoche (Nyagri Khentrul)
SOURCE: "ACIP: Tibetans in cyberspace" e-mail Erik Davis
 to buddha-l@ULKYVM.LOUISVILLE.EDU 23 Mar 1994.
NOTES: A poem that an old lay Tibetan master named Gelek Rinpoche
(Nyagri Khentrul) wrote Nov. 8, 1993 in praise of Geshe Lobsang
Tharchin and the computerised Asian Classics Input Project at the Sera
Mey monastery in Karnataka

IN PRAISE OF THE ACIP CD-ROM: WOODBLOCK TO LASER
(trans. Michael Roach)

Great friend of mankind,
Your intellect [Lo] is deep and vast
Born of the hundred thousand
Good and wonderful [sang] deeds
You've accomplished.

I bow down and salute you,
King of scholars,
For your surpassing [Tharchin]
And courageous efforts
To share the precious knowledge
Of our snowy land
Throughout the countries of the world.

The light of the disk
Is endless
Like the light of the disks
Of the sky,
Sun and moon;

The generosity of your gift
Is endless
We are attracted to it
And caught,
Like fish in a net;

The lands of the globe
Are endless
Where the goodness
Of your contribution
Will spread;

The people you reach
Are endless,
And what your do
Is of ultimate value.

You are like
A far spreading cloud
In the sky,
And the showers of your kind work
Pour down on us.

Your deeds seem
Almost effortless,
Like a rain that falls
Down to sustain
The rest of us.

Who else could do
What you have done,
Master of master scholars,
King of rivers,

Flowing down
To feed the ocean
Of the intellect
Of those with the fortune
To be fed.

Like a mother
You sent the sunlight
Of care and compassion
To instruct

That very lucky
Man of the race
Of the yellow hair

And feed him the sweet
Nectar of honey,
The knowledge of the classics
Of Asia,

And your rays of light
Opened in him
A thousand petals
Of knowledge.

This again
Is proof
Of your kindness,
And your mastery
Of knowledge.

Your deeds are pure,
And white,
A moon in the sky
That lights
Our great books;

The rays come down
From you
And open the night flowers,
Fulfilling our every wish,
For you are
A real Lamp of Alladin.

You light up the path
That leads to the door
Of the house
Of the ultimate ends of knowledge;

And there you march
Carrying high
The golden flag
Of wisdom, intellect, and ethics.

A hundred thousand
Mirrors of the disk
Hold the great classics
Of authors
Beyond counting.

No longer
Do we need
To wander amilessly
In the pages of catalogs
Beyond counting.

This magical invention,
In it shine
The works of Kangyur
And the Tengyur, almost
Beyond counting.

It is a thing of wonder;
With a single switch
We bring up whatever words
We seek to find,
Beyond counting.

They say
Theat the most precious
Of all jewels
Come from the depths
Of the ocean;

And so from deep
Below the vast sea
Of our ancient books

With a single push
Of our finger
On a button
We pull up the shining gems
Of citations,
Of text and commentary,
Whatever we seek;

This is something
Fantastic,
Beyond dreams.

It could only have been yourself,
Master of our ancient schools,
Who took this new invention
And turned it to a precious
Jewelled vase, jammed to the brim
With the treasure of the knowledg
Of our Himalayan lands.

It was a feat
Merely to assemble
In one place
The woodblock prints
Of our ancient authors

Until all these keys
To the ancient knowledge
Were complete in a single
Precious treasure chest;

But you went further,
And spread the disk
All throughout
The entire world;
A feat
More amazing still!

I throw to you
A thousand  petalled blooms
Of congratulations,
And I rejoice
In the kind deed you have don,
Which I know
Will satisfy the wishes
Of people throughout the world.

May you good activities
Spread to wherever
The earth spreads,
And there too
May the praises
Of your deeds be sung.

--Gelek Rinpoche, Nov. 8, 1993

-----------------------------------------------------------------------
end of file