CP in Mongolia

A poem by Mongolian scholar-poet Zava Damdin (b. 1976). Please refer to the Index of Mongolian Poetry and Articles for other works that may be of interest.

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NEITHER EXCESS NOR DEFICIENCY

(English Translation)

If you harbour excessive resentment, your own fine qualities will be consumed in its flames
If you are excessively hostile, you create the root cause of your own defeat
If craving becomes excessive, you will sink into the current of saṃsāra and be swept away ¹
If ignorance becomes excessive, know that there is no possibility of release ²

Dissolve resentment, by making it an instrument for sharpening yourself ³⁴
Remember, the true enemy lurks unseen in the afflicted recesses of the mind⁵
Transform greed and craving, through compassion, cease thinking only of yourself
To free yourself from the darkness of ignorance, rely upon the Lamp of Beings ⁶

Yet there are three essential things that must never be left unfinished:
First, when studying any field of knowledge from a good teacher, do not leave your learning incomplete
Next, when the time comes to accomplish a task, take particular care with how you begin, and how you bring it to completion
Finally, as is fitting, when engaging in spiritual practice, exert yourself fully and see it through to the end ⁷⁸⁹¹⁰¹¹¹²¹³

Zava Damdin Rinpoche
21.09.2026

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ХЭТИЙ БОЛОН ДУТУУ БҮҮ ҮЙЛД!

(Original Mongolian)

Хэтэрхий их өш санаваас өөрийн сайхан чанар шатмуй!
Хэтэрхий их дайсагнаваас өөрөө ялагдахуйн уг!
Хэт их шунахуй ану орчлонгийн урсгал дор живж одмуй!
Хэтэрсэн мунхаг аваас ямар ч аврал үгүй лүгээ мэдтүгэй!

Өш санахуйг өөрийгөө хурцлах зэмсгээр арилж!
Жинхэнэ дайсан зөвхөн атгаг сэтгэлийн мухарт гэтэж байдгийг сана!
Шунал тачияалыг нинжин сэтгэл лүгээ хувилгаж амин хувиа бодохуйг зогсоо!
Харангуй мунхагаас салахуйн тул төрөлхийтний зулыг шүт!

Харин дутуудуулж болох үгүй гурван чухаг зүйл буй!
Анхан дор сайн багшаас аливаа эрдмийг дутуу бүү сур!
Удаа дор хэрэг үйлийг бүтээхүйн цаг дор эхлэл төгсгөл хоёрыг илүү анхаар!
Адаг дор бүтээл үйлдвээс өөрийг дайчлан туйль дор ану хүргэвээс зохистой аму!

Зава Дамдин Ринбүчи
21.09.2026

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LEXICAL & STRUCTURAL NOTES

1
Saṃsāra: Here I use saṃsāra for the Mongolian “worldly existence” (орчлон, orchlon). In the context of the poem, it refers to worldly existence as marked by suffering and dissatisfaction. Zava Damdin’s image of its “current” (урсгал, ursgal) gives this a sense of being caught up in and carried along by it. ↩︎
2
No possibility of release: I have rendered “saving, rescue, or deliverance” (аврал, avral) here as “release.” The phrase “there is no avral whatsoever” (ямар ч аврал үгүй, yamar ch avral ügüi) is emphatic. In the Buddhist context of this stanza, “release” may also be heard in relation to the preceding image of the current of saṃsāra. Ignorance here can be understood as more than simply a lack of information: in Buddhist thought, it involves not understanding the nature of our experience and is among the conditions through which our suffering and dissatisfaction continue. ↩︎
3
Dissolve: The Mongolian “to remove, clear away, or eliminate” (арилга-, arilga-) has a range of meanings. I have chosen “dissolve” here because I read resentment as a state of mind to be gradually cleared away, thereby allowing a more wholesome predisposition to emerge. ↩︎
4
Sharpening yourself: This image closely follows the Mongolian “an instrument for sharpening oneself” (өөрийгөө хурцлах зэмсгээр, ööriigöö khurtslakh zemsgeer). I have retained the slightly unusual expression in English because the metaphor of sharpening oneself with an instrument belongs to Zava Damdin’s original line. ↩︎
5
Afflicted recesses of the mind: The Mongolian “malicious or corrupted mind” (атгаг сэтгэл, atgag setgel) carries a stronger negative sense than “afflicted” might initially suggest. I have chosen “the afflicted recesses of the mind” to retain the original image of an enemy lying in wait in an inner corner or recess (мухар, mukhar) of the mind. “Afflicted” also allows a resonance with the Buddhist understanding of mental afflictions (kleśas) without identifying атгаг сэтгэл (atgag setgel) directly with that technical term. ↩︎
6
Lamp of Beings: The Mongolian phrase “the lamp of beings” (төрөлхийтний зул, törölkhiitnii zul) presents a difficulty in English. “Beings” here carries the Buddhist sense of living or sentient beings, while “lamp” (зул, zul) evokes one who or that which gives light and thereby makes a way visible. I have kept the image quite closely as “the Lamp of Beings,” rather than smoothing it into a more explanatory expression such as “spiritual guide,” “teacher,” or “light of wisdom.” Any of these might make the English more immediately transparent, but each would also specify something that the Mongolian itself leaves open. My preference here is therefore to preserve the compactness, and something of the suggestiveness, of Zava Damdin’s original image, allowing the reader to encounter it before deciding how it should be understood. ↩︎
7
As is fitting: I retain this slightly formal expression because the Mongolian line itself closes with “it is fitting/proper” (зохистой аму, zokhistoi amu). I have moved it earlier in the English line, however, so that the final instruction can conclude more naturally with “see it through to the end.” ↩︎
8
On the translation: In translating this poem, I have tried above all to keep its teaching clear. At times this has meant choosing simple, direct English rather than trying to make every line sound more poetic. Where possible, however, I have kept the imagery, repetition, and character of Zava Damdin’s Mongolian. I have also approached the poem first as a work of contemporary Mongolian Buddhist writing, allowing its Mongolian language and expression to guide the translation rather than automatically rendering them through terms that have become familiar in English translations of Tibetan Buddhist texts. Romanisations of Mongolian terms are provided for ease of reading alongside the original Cyrillic. The Mongolian uses an exclamation mark at the end of every line. I have not reproduced these throughout the English, where their repetition would give the poem a more emphatic tone than reads naturally in English. ↩︎
9
Structure: As I worked through the poem, I noticed that several of its structures seem to interlock. Patterns within individual lines are echoed by the ordering of the closing stanza and, in turn, by the arrangement of the poem’s three four-line stanzas. The following notes trace some of these connections as I read them. I do not mean to suggest a fixed scheme, but simply to draw attention to the ways in which the poem’s language, sequence, and form seem to reinforce one another. ↩︎
10
The closing stanza: The closing stanza seems particularly carefully ordered. Zava Damdin introduces “three essential things” and then marks them successively with “first, at the outset” (анхан дор, ankhan dor), “next, thereafter” (удаа дор, udaa dor), and “finally, at the end” (адаг дор, adag dor). Within the middle of these three instructions is another small framing device: “pay greater attention to the two, beginning and end” (эхлэл төгсгөл хоёрыг илүү анхаар, ekhlel tögsgöl khoyoryg ilüü ankhaar). I have therefore translated this as “take particular care with how you begin, and how you bring it to completion,” rather than the flatter “pay attention to its beginning and end.” What touched me here was the sense of movement created across the three lines: one’s studies are not to be left incomplete; an undertaking requires care in how it begins and ends; and practice is to be pursued to its “limit, fullest extent, or ultimate point” (туйл, tuil). As Rinpoche’s student, I recognise myself in these lines. ↩︎
11
Beginning, middle, and end: As I read these closing lines, I also hear a resonance with the familiar idea of attending to practice at its beginning, middle, and end: establishing one’s orientation or motivation at the beginning, sustaining the practice through its middle, and bringing it properly to completion at the end. I do not take Zava Damdin to be quoting that formulation here. Indeed, the Mongolian is quite precise: it says “the two, beginning and end,” not “beginning, middle, and end.” The resonance arises for me instead from the poem’s own movement: “first” (анхан дор, ankhan dor), “next” (удаа дор, udaa dor), and “finally” (адаг дор, adag dor), together with its particular concern for how something is begun and how it is completed. I mention it, therefore, as something I hear while reading and translating the Mongolian, rather than as a proposed textual source for the poem. ↩︎
12
The movement of the poem: I also noticed a related movement across the poem’s three four-line stanzas. The first presents four forms of excess. The second responds with four ways of working upon or transforming them. The third then turns the question around: from what becomes harmful through excess to what should not be left deficient or incomplete, hence the title, “Neither Excess nor Deficiency!” (Хэтий болон дутуу бүү үйлд!, Khetii bolon dutuu büü üild!). It seems to reach across the poem as a whole. ↩︎
13
Translated by C. Pleteshner, 02.10.2026 from the Mongolian original dated 21.09.2026. Translation necessarily involves interpretation across languages and cultures. Any errors are entirely my own, and for these I humbly apologise. ↩︎

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TRANSLATOR’S NOTES

Reflexivity in the Space Between Languages

From time to time, I feel it is important to make some of the decisions I have made visible, to you the reader, rather than allowing the English text to simply appear as though it emerged transparently from the original Mongolian. Studying, translating, and “working with” Zava Damdin’s beautiful poetry is, for me, a serious task and an important part of my practice. Translating necessarily means making choices about meaning, register, imagery, and interpretation. The notes above record some of the choices I made at particular points in the poem. The following reflections make more explicit several other considerations that guided me as I worked with Rinpoche’s text.

1. Throughout the translation, I have looked first to the Mongolian as my primary point of reference. My starting point has been Zava Damdin’s Mongolian text and the meanings and relationships that seem to emerge from its language. Where Buddhist terminology in English provides a useful translation, I have used it cautiously. At the same time, I have tried not to assume that familiar terminology derived from English translations of Tibetan Buddhist texts necessarily provides the most appropriate way of understanding a contemporary Mongolian Buddhist poem.

2. Keeping the teaching clear in English has remained an important consideration for me. I feel it is important that the final translation can first be read as a teaching, rather than requiring the notes in order to become intelligible. This has sometimes meant preferring simple and direct English over language that might sound more conventionally poetic. At the same time, where the Mongolian offers a strong image, I have tried to retain something of its quality. The flames that consume one’s own fine qualities, the current of saṃsāra, the enemy lurking unseen, and the Lamp of Beings all seemed important to preserve.

3. Some expressions in the Mongolian seem better left with a degree of openness. “Lamp of Beings” is perhaps the clearest example. It would have been possible to replace this with a more immediately explanatory expression such as “spiritual guide,” “Teacher,” or “light of wisdom.” I have preferred not to do so. I consider it is important to distinguish between translating what I consider the Mongolian says, and deciding in advance what its image must mean. In places such as this, I would rather allow the reader to encounter some of the openness of the original expression.

4. I have also been mindful of differences of register within the Mongolian and, where possible, have allowed something of these to remain audible in English. The Mongolian moves between vivid imagery, direct instruction, Buddhist language, and more formal expressions. I have tried, as far as English permits, not to flatten those differences into a single contemporary register. This is one reason I have retained expressions such as “sharpening yourself,” “Lamp of Beings,” and “as is fitting,” even though other English formulations might have initially sounded smoother.

5. At points where more than one translation seemed possible, I felt it useful to let the reader see something of the choices involved. The above lexical notes therefore indicate places where I have had to choose among possible meanings or where an English expression does not reproduce the Mongolian exactly. I think it is important for the reader to be able to see where such decisions have been made. The notes are not intended to establish a definitive interpretation of Rinpoche’s poem, but to make aspects of my own translation process more transparent and open to consideration.

6. I have also found it useful to reflect on the difference between what I can “observe” in the text and what I “hear” through my own reading of it. This distinction becomes particularly important in the structural notes. The sequences and repetitions can be identified in the Mongolian itself. Other connections, such as the possible resonance with attending to practice at its beginning, middle, and end, involve interpretation. For this reason I have used formulations such as “as I read,” “I also hear a resonance,” and “I do not take Zava Damdin to be quoting that formulation here.” It is important not to turn a connection perceived by an interpreter into an assertion about the author’s intention.

7. Finally, I feel there is value in allowing my presence as translator to remain visible, while also keeping it limited. These translator’s notes have therefore been written in the first person where a translation or interpretive decision is specifically mine. The purpose is not to place myself between you the reader and Zava Rinpoche’s poem, but to acknowledge that an English translation necessarily reaches the reader through decisions made by a particular translator.

Making some of those decisions visible may also offer a modest form of scholarly accountability, by allowing you to see more clearly where the Mongolian text ends and my own choices and interpretations begin. This seems particularly important to me when translating a newly composed work by a living Mongolian Buddhist Master. The Mongolian text remains the point to which the reader can return. —CP

End of transcript.

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© 2013-2026. CP in Mongolia. “Mongolian Poetry 69: Neither Excess Nor Deficiency” is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. Open access should not be understood as the absence of attribution. Documents linked from this page may be subject to other restrictions. Posted: 5 October 2026. Last updated: 5 October 2026.