In your enlightened heart, an open sky of pure love,
The clouds of compassion gather perfectly,
And send down a steady rain of buddha-activity
Ripening a great harvest of disciples,
Marpa the Translator, at your feet I bow.

Sentient beings are as numberless as the sky is vast—
Please grant your blessing that they will attain
The state of omniscient, perfect enlightenment.
Grant your blessing that they all become buddhas.

All you yaksha demons who have gathered here,
You spirits who fly in the sky in subtle mental forms,
Hungry ghosts who have nothing but food on your minds,
It's your bad karma and negative actions ripening
That has caused you to be born as hungry ghosts.

By the power of the harm that you now do to others,
Next life, you will be born down in the hells.
I have sung you a short teaching about causes and results,
Now I'll tell you what's important about my life:

I am the son of the Kagyü lineage gurus,
I entered the Dharma when faith arose in me,
Since I knew the law of karma, I did the hard things to be done,
With joyous diligence, I practiced on the path,
And tasted the fruit of seeing mind's true nature.

I know all appearances are like an illusion,
The sickness of clinging to self is gone,
Samsara's chains of duality no longer bind me,
And I've conquered the capital of unchanging Dharmakaya.

I am the yogi, fearless in my mind,
And so malicious spirits, you can try to hurt me,
But the only result will be to tire yourselves out,
And then you'll just get angry once again.

My mind's continuum is the ground of all,
So demons, even if you turn all six realms against me,
Should all those from Brahma's minions down to the eighteen hells
Become my enemy, I shall not be afraid.

So now all you yaksha spirits who have gathered here,
All the many magic tricks you've tried to perform,
Have not brought the slightest harm to this human being
But if you now just said goodbye and left,

Everything you'd tried to do would have been in vain,
And now wouldn't that be so embarrassing,
So I'll give you one last chance, you can give me your best shot,
Come on now demons, give me your best shot!

Sung in Rag-ma to demons destroying practice caves.Tibetan page 244.
Under the guidance of Dechen Rangdrol (Khenpo Tsultrim Gyamtso Rinpoche), translated by Ari Goldfield, Guayrapa Asociación Cultural, Tarragona, Spain, May 3, 2003. Translation copyright 2012, Ari Goldfield.