A beautiful doha by the Mongolian scholar-poet Zava Damdin (b. 1976).

_______________________________

WHAT KIND OF WIND IS STIRRING?

(English Translation)

Deep within the chest the atmosphere clears of itself
And in the flower-garden of the heart flowers open
As the golden dust of contemplation settles, bees searching for meaning
From every direction, gather of their own accord

In the soft wind, as fully blossomed flowers dance and sway,
Mountains and pastures draw near and recede, like the motion of an ancient galb*
As peaceful birds drift and fly along the road of the open sky
The surface of the lake ripples, as though the shadow of many wings were coming alive and changing form

As the humble boy rests in balance, like the measure of an unfolded image laid open before an artist
Essence, nourishment, living movement, and spaciousness gather at the centre of the heart
Are the flowers, the bees and all the rest together rousing and reminding me
Or am I, through volition and intention, rousing them and stirring the inner wind?

Written by the boy who holds the sword of Zöölön Tsogt*

_______________________________

Translated by C.Pleteshner
English interpretation 16.06.2026 from the original Mongolian 28.05.2026

_______________________________

ЯМАРХАН САЛХИ ХӨДЛӨН БУЙ БУЮУ

(Original Mongolian)

Цээжний гүн дор агаар мандал аяндаа тунгалагшиж
Дотоод сэтгэлийн цэцэглиг дор цэцэгс дэлбээлж
Бодролын алтан тоос тунарахуй дор үзэсгэлэнт цоморлиг дор саатан
Зүг бүрээс утгыг эрэвхийлэн явах зөгийс өөрийн эрх үгүй чуулнам

Зөөлөн салхин дор цоморлиг төгөлдөр цэцэгс бүжин найгахуй дор
Уулс нугууд эрт галбын хөдөлгөөн мэт холдон ойртон мэт байнам
Амгалан шувууд огторгуйн зам дор хөвөлзөн нисэхүй бүрүүн лүгээ
Нуурын мандал жигүүрийн сүүдэр амилан хувилсан мэт давлагаалнам

Өчүүхэн хөвүүн бээр дэлгэмэл хөргийн тиг мэт тэгш оршихуй дор
Охь шим, орчих амьдрал, орон зай сэтгэлийн төв дор төвлөрнөм
Цэцэгс, зөгийс тэргүүтэн намайг хотол өдүүлэн дуртган буй буюу
Аль бөгөөс би бээр тэднийг зоригдон дотоод салхийг өдөөн байнам буюу

Зөөлөн Цогтын илдийг баригч хөвгүүн бээр бичив

28.05.2026

_______________________________

NOTES

The visual world of this doha feels distinctly Mongolian: mountains and pastures breathing in distance, birds crossing the open sky, a lake receiving the passing shadow of wings. These images do more than place the poem in a landscape; they suggest that the poem’s inner movement is inseparable from the landscape itself.

In this sense, the inner movements of contemplation are not abstracted from the steppe, but shaped by its spaciousness, its nomadic rhythms of nearness and distance, stillness and motion. This seems to be one of the quiet signatures of some of Zava Damdin’s (b. 1976) beautiful poetry: Buddhist experience appearing through a Mongolian landscape rather than apart from it. What do you think? Am I on the right track? 

* * *

1. Galb (Галб) is the Mongolian Buddhist term corresponding to Sanskrit kalpa: an immense cosmic age, world-period, or aeon. It carries a mythic-cosmological scale, much larger and more sacred than simply “ancient time.”
2. As the humble boy rests in balance, like the measure of an unfolded image laid open before an artist — Өчүүхэн хөвүүн бээр дэлгэмэл хөргийн тиг мэт тэгш оршихуй дор: The word тиг can refer, in Buddhist image-making, to the proportional guide, measured canon, or compositional grid by which a sacred image is drawn. Uranchimeg Tsultemin’s work on Mongolian Buddhist art is helpful here, since she shows how image-making in this world cannot be separated from questions of iconography, sacred presence, patronage, and ritual meaning; the image is never only a visual object, but a form brought into relation with a living religious world.
3. In a broader Indic context, Isabella Nardi’s study of the citrasūtras likewise shows how proportion, measure, and compositional order belong to the very grammar of sacred image-making. In this line, then, the little boy does not simply “sit” in a physical sense; he rests in balance — тэгш оршихуй — as though his presence has found its own inner proportion. The comparison with дэлгэмэл хөрөг, an opened or unfolded image, suggests a form becoming visible according to a hidden measure. The line therefore holds together bodily stillness, inner ordering, and the quiet emergence of an image into presence.
4. Written by the boy who holds the sword of Zöölön Tsogt — Зөөлөн Цогтын илдийг баригч хөвгүүн бээр бичив: I have kept Zöölön Tsogt as an ambiguous signature rather than translating it into a fixed English phrase. Зөөлөн means soft, gentle, tender, or mild, while цогт can suggest radiance, splendour, brilliance, vitality, or fiery presence. The phrase seems to hold a deliberate tension between softness and brightness, gentleness and sharpness, especially when placed beside илд, “sword”. In this doha, where the orator is uncertain whether the flowers, bees, and wind are stirring him, or whether he is stirring them, that ambiguity is important. By my reading, this signature does not close the poem down into explanation. It leaves a final image of someone holding a sword that may be poetic, spiritual, playful, self-reflective, or possibly all of these at once.

_______________________________

The Mongolian word сэтгэл (setgel) is difficult to carry with a single English word. It can mean mind, heart, feeling, intention, consciousness, inner disposition, and moral-emotional orientation, depending on context. In Buddhist usage, it may also carry the sense of the mind as something to be trained, clarified, or transformed. For this reason, I sometimes translate сэтгэл as heart-mind, or more poetically as the heart’s mind, to avoid separating thought from feeling where the Mongolian, especially in the context of doha, holds them together. When I use the simpler word heart, as I have done in this translation, I intend it to carry the resonance of сэтгэл within it: not only emotion, but awareness, intention, receptivity, and the subtle place where thought and feeling meet.

I make no claim to having cultivated this kind of subtle awareness; I do, however, feel it is important to include the above note with each of Zava Rinpoche’s dohas in which сэтгэл, or one of its inflected forms, appears in the original composition. Doing so serves as a gentle reminder, for myself as much as for Mongolian and non-Mongolian readers of English, that whenever “heart” appears, it may be read with the fuller resonance of “сэтгэл” in mind.

_______________________________

Translation of Buddhist poetry (doha) is always an interpretation into another culture. Any errors in this regard are entirely my own, and for these I humbly apologise.

_______________________________

FURTHER READING

Tsultemin, Uranchimeg. A Monastery on the Move: Art and Politics in Later Buddhist Mongolia. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2020.

Nardi, Isabella. The Theory of Indian Painting: The Citrasutras, Their Uses and Interpretations. PhD diss., SOAS University of London, 2003.