Translation methods

Since I graduated from Tibetan Medical and Astro. College, I have engaged in translation work. Translation is said to be like a women; when she is faithful, she is not beautiful; when she is beautiful, she is not faithful. We do not know the reflection of the statement under what circumstance does it happen unless we do translation work. I have written an article (in Tibetan) reflecting my experience on translation work.  

Who Did Ccompose the Dawai Gyalpo, the classic book of Tibetan Medicine

Manchey Dawai Gyalpo (sman dbyad zla ba’i rgyal po) or King of the

An Appeal to My Fellowmen

By Yonden Gonpo Yuthok

Thee all,

Abandon selfishness, miserliness, and dissimulation

Avail yourselves in the benefits of patients

With compassionate hearts

Be persistent and consistent,

While not seeking temporary benefits

From rich friends

Render medicine and external therapies

Effectively to treat unbearable diseases,

 Without due consideration of personal position and gifts

Be a universal doctor,

By bridging the gap between the nearness and the farness

Not always be at home

Go to all places, and see all patients

Sweat out not to be a high-ranked physician,

But, to care the poor and the blind,

With full of love

Avert from alcoholic consumption,   

Conversely, rely on dairy products

Avoid riding a horse or a mule

Instead, go on foot to serve sea of patients

Something you have learned

Still many things left to be learned,

Thus, even being old,

You persevere to learn

Do not trial human life as machine,

Accept the limitation of one’s knowledge  

  

    

The Narrow Footpath

A vivid image always hovering before my eyes is the footpath of our village, which could not be removed by the merciless blowing wind, and also could not be erased by the raining water. A day has never passed by without remembering it, because the footpath which only has served us to travel for many centuries; and also on which countless historical footprints have been laid from generation to generation; on which the sweat of farmers has rained and diffused into deep soil. So, whenever I remember it, I feel as if I were enjoying with my old friends, I feel as if I were listening to the old people debating about the footpath. In fact these events are very old. When the old people were indulging in gossiping under the scorching sun, an old man said with tears falling down his wrinkled cheeks, "Idiot ancestors! How did they remember to inhabit this infertile land?" They sometimes talked about the narrow footpath of our village. Some said, "The footpath was formed after Avaloketisvara being in disguise of monkey that had travelled through it to see the Potala Palace". By contract, some said, "The footpath was a legacy of Paldorjee Lhalung, who discovered the route and made an escape after assassinating the King Lhang Darma, the destroyer of religion." Some said, "That path was made by the wild animals." It became debatable, and they continued till nightfall. No need to mention the long argument of old people has strongly impressed me but it is not the only reason behind my nostalgia for the narrow footpath. One day when it rained slightly I went to school through that footpath. The footpath running downward from our village that had been dusty before, but that day due to the rainfall it was emitting greenery light; the scattered pebbles on the path were getting smooth and wet; the trees on the side were dancing with wind. They made the footpath as a living thing, undoubtedly resembling a moving dragon on the foothill. Therefore, my regionalism truly grew stronger, and made me remember the long argument of old people. The spirited footpath also made me feel something beyond my thought. The man or God, who pioneered the footpath, was really great. The inspiration to take the first steps on such a steep rock was a product of a great thought. The thought that brought into practical was truly praiseworthy. Even though the winding footpath was narrow, curved, and steep yet the pioneer had so much pride to embrace the challenge and also had an irreversible determination to make the dream come true. Following the footpath with full efforts, the man who reached on the top of the mountain at first was perceived to be both mentally and physically strong. He was worthwhile to be remembered because he left no stones unturned to make it a historic path. His work not only eased our transportation and journey but also paved the way for our social development. However, he passed away, leaving nothing behind us except his great work with anonymous. Remember it always! We knew only to walk on that path but didn't know how to pay the homage to his noble work. Why did we feel ironically hatred towards him? Didn't we feel a pricking sensation in your heart soon after we said, "Foolish ancestors!" while holding a seat on the path? In fact our ancestors left only the narrow path for us. But, for many thousands of years the footpath could not be widened even a single step and not be leveled even a centimeter, it remained as narrow as before. It clearly proved a setback of intellectual capability rather than coward acts of our ancestors. Our

ancestors' footpath was not invaluable. The history of Tibet began with the footpath. The intellectual community of Tibet rose up to the top of the hills and the five traditional cultures of Tibet made stepping stones to a great development. Tibet was well civilized on the roof of the world. Our great translators went to India through that footpath and returned with a bag full of Buddhist literature. Then, we began to put on clothes and discontinued wearing leaves of a tree. Since then, the Tibetan race-physically red cheeks and short in height was fit to survive on the cold zone. We only felt proud to work through that footpath and sometimes we did compliment their great works. But why did we not study the ancestors' ingenuity and intellectual evolution? With superstitious belief, we recited heroic works of ancestors as mantra that was thankless. When I remembered those events I felt a burning sensation on my face, and my heart was overwhelmed by a huge regret. Even being a Tibetan, I had never been one of the blue-collar workers to enlarge the narrow path. I walked on the footpath a thousand times yet I never remembered to contribute something to construct the path in all its glory and never felt its usefulness. Nothing remained more regretful and shameful than my indifference towards the development of the footpath. The whole world was blessed with the highway, railway, and lanes, especially the route to the moon. But, we Tibetans still had been riding donkeys on that narrow footpath with a relaxed atmosphere. Remember, the person on the halfway was a monk. He laid stable and conspicuous footprints and filled the narrow path with murmuring sound of "Take refuge in the Lama." The follower of the monk was a nun. Her murmuring sound of "Take refuge in the spiritual community" was mixed in the former sound. The mixed sound produced an echo of "Take refuge in the dharma." It was certain that their thought was arisen from a reliable source but the place on which they put their feet was no other than the narrow footpath itself. The relationship between the path and its pedestrians was inexplicable in words, yet it was a curious paradox that our pride in possession of the footpath was unexpectedly melting down. Maybe someone was fully involved in the pursuit of attaining the state of enlightenment by riding the horse of mind, yet the enlightened beings came once in a blue moon to moonlight as a Buddha to alleviate the human sufferings. Whatever it was must be about. My bliss would come from the path and also my sorrow would go into the path. In a year there occurred a flood due to heavy rainfall. It partly dismantled our footpath. To my surprise, no one volunteered to save the path from damage and to reconstruct the path with a feat of engineering. One day a shepherd gained an access through the damaged footpath with a herd of goats, and it recreated a footpath for us. It was not so smooth to go on the path but no more options left. By the time, the retired people again began to fight in words. In the heated debate, the old men as an inherited type of Dhong race, storytellers of Ling tsang, old women always hoping for the blessing of Avoloikishara, followers of Paldor, and hunters were involved. No on backed down from his or her statement. A pedestrian heard their arguments and said, "It would have been useful if you had enlarged the footpath, which is so narrow that we could not go smoothly on it." The group of old people unanimously replied: "What! This footpath is used not only us but also by the demons (supernatural spirits). So, death will occur for sure with a miracle of warts being removed off, if we take even a spate of soil from the footpath." After the warning no one could make an effort to widen the path, and a day never passed without the debate of old people. In the aftermath of Chinese occupation of Tibet, our village became the centre of natural resource exploitation, and the government of China constructed a road below our footpath. It was leveled well with tar being putted on its surface.

It seemed to be inviting us. But our villagers preferred to the conventional footpath. A few years later, the young generations afforded to buy two or four wheelers, and they travelled on the road by wheelers. However, many were still walking on the footpath, with traditional bags on their backs. They might have thought it was risky to go on the road by vehicles as the road was too wide and steep. Besides they felt it would inflict foot pains while travelling through the concrete and long road. At an annual public meeting two groups—people using technology and people using traditional equipments—fought in words, and it became serious. I stayed long at the junction of footpath and road, remembered the pin drop silence that occupied the winding footpath; the wide road which crossed the hills horizontally, inviting motor vehicles, horse-drawn carriages, etc. Apart from it I remembered our people and our country. Before my eyes appeared a marvelous and bright future-path, out of control I started to take steps towards the road. The end Dhundup Gyal was a luminous writer, and political activist. He wrote it with the title of "Kang lam tamo" in Tibetan on January 26, 1984, Beijing in China. And it appeared in the national magazine and received a tsunami of compliments from the readers. I went through the article when I was in school. It impressed me a lot. And I left no stones unturned to translate it into English. My translation has ended with a bittersweet feeling. I felt happy as I completed the work. On the other hand I felt sad as my translation became distorted. I read it from beginning to end three times but did not feel the same taste that I had got from the primary source.