See clearly the three realms—all is but heat and vexation,

with no cool respite, no eternal paradise of joy.

Good times are always fleeting,

weathered by storms, spring blossoms, autumn frost.

Lifetimes of rise and fall,

in the cycle of rebirth—how many tears have pooled into oceans, forgotten? The rope of attachment binds the illusion of self,

and downfall is but a moment’s delusion.

Green mountains stand, rivers flow,

through endless ages—who escapes impermanence?

See clearly the three realms—no cool respite,

no lasting joy.

The Buddha’s deliverance is boundless bliss.

Namo Amitabha, Namo Amitabha,

one chant westward—boundless life,

boundless light.

The lotus-filled Pure Land is the homeland of all beings.

Jeweled ponds of lotuses, infinite fragrance and radiance.

Rows of jeweled trees,

the kalavinka birds sing—peaceful,

free, and cool.

See through the delusion of the three realms,

turn your heart westward.

Upon the nine-grade lotus,

great liberation in serene nirvana.

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