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Somehow, I kept climbing, though tired, hungry, and weak. Old, too.
At the top of the mountain, I spread my outer robe on a rock to dry, set down my staff and bowl, took a deep breath, and looked around.
It was windy up there.
As I was leaning back against a large gray rock,
the darkness I had carried up and down a million mountains
slipped off my shoulders and swept itself away on the wind.
This verse is from the Therigatha, a Buddhist text consisting of a collection of 73 short poems of women who were senior nuns. The poems date from a three hundred year period, starting in the late 6th century BCE. It is the companion text to the Theragatha, verses attributed to senior monks. It is the earliest known collection of women’s literature composed in India.
Source: Great Middle Way
Wait. Is this a translation or the original work of Rose Mary Boehm
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If you look at the note below the poem, you’ll see that this poem is part of a collection of Buddhist nuns over two thousand years ago. The translator remains anonymous.
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I saw that but when I googled it, I saw many many translations so I went to the post and saw her name at the top. What collection did you find this in?
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Again, if you go to the bottom of the page, you’ll see the source: https://greatmiddleway.wordpress.com
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This is so beautiful in its simplicity and brings me hope.
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I. agree, Barbara. I love the poems in the nun’s collection.
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Which translation?
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Gorgeous.
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