One day as I went to refresh myself
In the middle of a meadow,
Many goats and sheep came from all sides
And gathered around me. 

Among them, an old sheep spoke:
“Old monk, neither virtuous nor sinful,
I have something to tell you.”
“Alright,” I said. “Come on, tell me.”

He went on: “I have a great favor to request
Of the ‘meritorious’ lamas
Who come gathering alms in summer and autumn. 

“The very moment a short-necked, shiny, chubby monk
Arrives at our village door, leading packhorses carrying a lama’s red bundles
He takes a villager with him and comes right toward us sheep. 

“The ‘protection cord’ the lama is going to give out
Is for us a noose—
It gets tied around the patrons’ necks—
And soon, by our necks, we ourselves are caught. 

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