haruka na mukashi ni kuchihateta kenja no michi sougon no kawa yami ni mo ikou seija sae mo kotaezu ni tachi michi wo fusagu kikoeru ka muon no kimi yobu koe tadoreru ka mumyou no wara wo tsukami ikare yo INDRA iwa wo moyasu hodo kyomu ni ken wo furu yami no ko wo daite yume ni mo misezu ni kakusareta ougon no hana tougen no uta inori no yoru sae orosareru nao yuke to sasu kenga no toki kikoeru ka muon no kimi yobu koe watareru ka fujou no kawa no mizu wo nomi ikare yo INDRA iwa wo moyasu hodo kyomu ni ken wo furu yami no ko wo daite kabae yo INDRA nanimo shiranu ko wo ikari no rotou wo tsukanoma kiyomete —- Long ago, in the distant past, they fell into decay The philosopher’s path The river of glory Even the saints resting in the darkness rise up without response and block the way Can you hear it, the silent voice that calls to you? Can you follow after it, grasping at the straws of ignorance? (1) Rage, oh Indra, with an anger hot enough to burn boulders, embracing the child of darkness who swings his sword in the nothingness! They remain hidden away, unseen even in dreams The golden flowers The songs of Shangri-La (2) You are denied even a night of prayer The rapids of time thrust you ever onward Can you hear it, the silent voice that calls to you? Can you cross over to it, drinking the water of this impure river? Rage, oh Indra, with an anger hot enough to burn boulders, embracing the child of darkness who swings his sword in the nothingness! Protect him, oh Indra, this ignorant child, and for but a brief moment, purge these roads of rage!