You, my son, my son who committed a great sin, put down the books of the day, my beloved son who ran wildly in the alleys and alleys, seeing you always leading the group of children and fighting against the big children, Even if you always lose at first and always win later, your mother can't stop worrying.
You, my son, my sinful son, you love to sing, you love to exercise, you love to recite those famous passages from the Rig-Veda and the Ramayan. You are with friends and companions, naked, nibbling on half-cooked meat, rushing to the fields in the sunny spring, just like what Fa Zhiheli wrote, and galloping fast.
You, my son, my sinful son, why do you say these gods make us so mean and mean? Why can't the gods and Buddhas spread the holy light on our heads? Brahmins and Kshatriyas wear gold and silver, eat vegetarian food and drink milk, and the Vaishyas have a decent livelihood. Even the unreincarnated Sudra, the foot of Brahma, looks down on us Dalits, who are untouchable huddled in the abyss and darkness. scribe!
You, my son, my sinful son, why do you so arrogantly profess to bring dignity and equality to the ant-people other than the regenerator? You said that you should not wait for the next life with patience and prayer, but hold your sword to the sky, and destroy the thunder and lightning storm of Ashura, even if the holy mountain is covered with bones and the Ganges River is red with blood and tears, it will destroy the first place in the world of Varna. Xiongcheng!
You, my son, my sinful son, we're only dark-skinned, short-statured pariahs, how dare you roar like that? More filthy than filth, even more base than vile, the ants under the four Varna, Brahma, Shiva, Vishnu will not have our shadow in the dreams, you actually swore to be enmity with the gods
You, my son, my sinful son, I would like to cut off my arm and gouge out my eyes, and I would like to sit in a snake and scorpion's nest in penance for the rest of my life. I only ask the gods to forgive your surly and ignorant, laughing like the humming of insects, no matter if you are a saint hero or a devil king, you are the bone of the mother's bones and the flesh of the flesh.
You, my son, my sinful son, why do you spurn the hadiths of the Four Vedas and Upanishads, despite the hard admonitions of your mother? You say that Varna is a vile lie, that karma is the cause of cruelty, that no one is born noble or low, no one cannot taste the nectar of truth, and the intellect that shines bright.
You, my son, my sinful son, whether you don’t believe in karma or mock Varna, why don’t you listen to your mother’s weeping exhortation and pretend to be piety in front of outsiders? Son, why do you block that Brahman's carriage and confide your true heart in front of Kshatriya? Could it be that the devilish remarks of the Sixth Division caused you to extend your arms and legs and control your throat, so that you stretched out your blocking arms and made a rebellious voice?
You, my son, my sinful son, the brahmins struck you with a thorn-stick inlaid with precious stones, broke your limbs, shattered your mother's heart and tears, the kind-hearted buddha in the moonless night I stole the holy ashes from the temple to wipe it for you, but you are burning more and hotter you, untouchables, my blood is flesh and blood I go to pray in the yellow Ganges River, if you can live, I will be a beast forever, I would like to be an animal forever.
You, my son, my sinful son, I pray to Brahma, in his dream the world awakes. I humbly plead that you will not be a pariah in the next life. I pray to Lord Vishnu, the world is born in the lotus on his belly, he crosses heaven and earth in two steps, please let my son come to life. I thought my energy was exhausted, my journey was over, and the time had come to retire in the silent primordial
You, my son, my sinful son, in a trance, the god descends, with bow and arrow in his hand, and his eyes are like stars, bringing destruction and new life. Lord Shiva, your dance reborn the world, your long hair flows across the Ganges, your bow and arrows destroy the three demon cities, your throat swallows the poison that kills the world, and your eyes spew out the flames that destroy the world.
You, my son, my son who has committed a great sin, Da Zizaitian, the Lord of the Three Thousand Realms, if he must die, please put an end to my son's suffering with the bow and arrow in your hand. Lord Shiva does not bend his bow, he just smiles and picks up my son and goes to the end of the yellow Ganges
You, my son, my sinful son, Lord Shiva said you were going to be king in another world, and you took over the trident and Indra's vajra in the dance, and he said you would Smash the old world to smithereens in Tandavari and replace it with a red lotus karmic red dawn Fate will let you step into the immeasurable light of Taishozo, and let you die in eternal silence and nothingness
You, my son, my son who committed great sins, the comrades who fought with you in the oracle, most of them died before you, and all the creatures you rescued in the oracle will be enslaved but destroyed and reborn after death The hope of yours will always be with your name, as bright as the sun shines brightly.
You, my son, my sinful son, I saw dust on your robes, you fought side by side with the hoeing peasant, the working blacksmith, you smiled at the storm, the lightning, and the roar of the nobles, And the so-called spears and daggers bestowed by the gods You knocked them to the ground one at a time, made them wailing, shouting, and showing ugly faces
You, my son, my son who committed a great sin The untouchables will shout your name, 'Fight under the blood-stained banner
You, my son, my sinful son I'm just a mother, I don't expect you to be glorious in the next life, I only wish you peace in this life, I only wish you peace in this life. I chased Lord Shiva, ran deep into the yellow Ganges, touched my son for the last time, but saw a new world
You, my son, my sinful son, I see your smiling portrait hanging in the center of the red tower under the blue sky, the couple posing for a photo in front of you, the warrior salutes you
The roaring steel beast crawls in front of you, bowing its head to you, the golden-winged Dapeng bird under Vishnu flies over your head, with your badge on its wings that can emit only the creation of Brahma A thousand sun-rayed Vijayan greatswords that only exist in the world, in the name of your words
The monarchs of all directions gather here, and in front of you the commoners who worship from all corners of the world come here and cheer to your name
My son, you will be king in a new world. There, can someone cook for you, can someone mend your clothes? Even if you have a brilliant life, I just want you to be safe and sound, and I am willing to use everything I have for my son's good health.
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