For hundreds of millions of kalpas, mired in mud and dust,
Covered in fur and bearing horns, feeding on wild grass.
You led me and I pulled you, treading the dark road,
Turning from awakening, merging with dust, drowning in the wheel of suffering.
Now, turning back, we escape the six realms,
Washing the heart and transforming the face, drinking the nectar of immortality.
Wielding whip and staff upon the road of light,
Far from dust, free of defilement, toward the city of nirvāṇa.
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