At your feet, Oh Father Marpa so kind, I bow
In the mountain heights of this monastery of my body
In the shrine room of my torso at the bosom
In the triangle sanctuary of my heart

The horse of mind is roaming like the wind
To catch such a horse, what kind of a lasso can you catch it with
To tether it, what kind of post can you tether it to
When it's hungry, what kind of feed can you give it to eat
When it's thirsty, what kind of water will wet its throat
When it's shivering, what kind of barn will you stable it in

To catch it, use a lasso of non-dual rope to catch it with
To tether it, use a post of samadhi to tether it to
When it's hungry, then give it the food of the lama's instructions
When it's thirsty, just lead it to drink at the stream of mindfulness
When it's freezing, then bed it down in the stable of emptiness

I bridle and saddle it up with upaya and prajna
I tighten that saddle up well, it won't work its way loose
I give it the halter of the prana of laboring life force
When the time comes to ride, the youth of awareness rides

Give him mahayana's bodhichitta as a helmet to wear
To listen, reflect and meditate is his coat of mail
With the shield of patience on his back till it's ready to use
He holds the lance of view poised steady in his hand
With the sword of prajna strapped on at his side

He takes the flexible shaft of a well-balanced character
And straightens its bends with freedom from aggressive thinking
And that’s where he mounts the feathers of the four immeasurables
At the tip, the flint of sharp intelligence

And onto the mighty bow of the emptiness
He fits the notch of the path of deepest skills
He pulls the bowstring and stands in union's spaciousness
Lets the arrow fly through the sky of everywhere

When it strikes, it strikes right through whoever believes it
And the victim, the fiend of ego idea, falls dead
So that's why the enemy I subdue is klesha
And the friends I protect are the six kinds of sentient beings

When I give it free rein, my horse gallops over the plane of great bliss
What it's headed for is the level of buddhahood
The starting line is to cut samsara's basic root
The finish line, enlightenment's safe, dry shore

The prize I win on this sprinting steed is buddhahood
Take another look at your own idea of what a nice life is
Your nice life stuck in this world doesn't sound like living to me
Your nice worldly kind of life doesn't do it for me

This song, also called "The Archer's Song", was translated under the guidance of Khenpo Tsultrim Gyamtso Rinpoche at Huba, Poland, and arranged at Cha’n Centre, Tenerife, July 1995, by Jim Scott, Tibetan page 168. Translation copyright 2012, Jim Scott