02.05 Cittā Therī [Chitta (sic.)] (27-28)


27. Although I am thin, sick, and very weak, I go along leaning on a stick, having climbed the mountain.

28. I threw down my outer robe and turned my bowl upside down; I propped myself against a rock, tearing asunder the mass of darkness [of ignorance].


Somehow I kept climbing—

though tired,


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.


1 comment

  1. This poem continues Matty’s theme of robbing enlightened women of their agency and denying that enlightenment is a deliberate and effortful achievement.

    In the original, Citta Theri “tears asunder” the mass of darkness. In Weingast’s poem, it “sweeps *itself* away” — “slipping off her shoulders” like a nightgown.

    Yes. That’s right. He sexualized her enlightenment!

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