Shantideva - Entering the Way of the Bodhisattva: A New Translation and Contemporary Guide

I began working on this translation of Entering the Way of the Bodhisattva for my own use when teaching from the text or orally interpreting teachings given by my own teacher Khenchen Thrangu Rinpoche. In part, I was curious whether it would be possible to capture in English both the meaning and the musicality of Shantidevas verse. The Way of the Bodhisattva has become such a beloved work in India and Tibet not only because it gives such a masterful overview of the path of the bodhisattva. For the most part deceptively simple and direct, Shantidevas language is so evocative and inspiring that the meaning finds its way easily into the heart, not just the intellect. Though I do not have any particular training in verse and can claim to understand Shantidevas work only on a superficial level, the reactions of people I have shown drafts to have encouraged me to think that sharing the results of my experiments more widely might be beneficial.

Yet a translation of Shantidevas text alone would not be so accessible for modern readers, as it is remote in terms of time, culture, and assumptions. Many of Shantidevas ideas may be unfamiliar and contrary to modern thinking, and his allusions and references may make little sense or even be off-putting to contemporary sensibilities without some explanation to contextualize them. Though there are excellent commentaries available in English, it seemed that including a short introduction to the text would be helpful to many readers, both general readers and students of Buddhism. Thus, the book has two parts: the translation of Shantidevas work itself, presented without any embellishment, and an introductory guide intended to give readers a way into the text so that they can begin to appreciate Shantidevas thought.

In preparing the translation, I have followed primarily the canonical Tibetan edition found in the Derge Tengyur. This edition is the basis for a living tradition of explanation and practice that originated with the great scholars of ancient India and came to Tibet with the Indian master Atisha in the eleventh century. It is the version that is most frequently taught and that the greatest number of commentaries use, so it is also the most useful for the greatest number of people. It is also the version that I have been taught on many occasions. However, there is also an extant Sanskrit text, as well as several other Tibetan editions, and I have compared the canonical version against these other versions as I worked. To resolve discrepancies and ambiguities, I usually followed the interpretation in the canonical Tibetan edition, assuming that the Tibetan translators (who always worked in tandem with Indian scholars) are a reliable guide to the meaning. The canonical Tibetan edition appears to have been translated from a different version of the Sanskrit text than the version that has survived, but the two are close enough that lines that are ambiguous in the Tibetan can be clarified by referring to the Sanskrit. I also consulted a variety of Indian and Tibetan commentaries and editions to see which reading is best in terms of the meaning and which seems to come from the most reliable source. I have tried to accommodate the various interpretations found in the commentaries, though that was not always possible. I have also compared my work to several earlier translations of the Way of the Bodhisattva. Where I have understood a passage differently, I have checked my own interpretation against the commentaries, never assuming I was right. This translation is built on the foundation of previous translators efforts, and I am grateful for their work.

Shantideva protests at the beginning of his work that he has no skill in poetry, but his modesty belies his adroitness with verse. Though he largely avoids the florid language and elaborate metaphor commonly found in Sanskrit poetry, he uses rhythm and meter to great effect throughout, mostly writing in light, succinct lines but switching to slightly longer, more measured verse for passages with more gravitas, and in a few spots, to stately long lines laden with imagery. The Tibetan translators followed Shantidevas lead, matching every meter change in Sanskrit with a meter change in Tibetan. They rendered his shorter lines with light, quick, seven-syllable verse and replicated his longer verses with correspondingly longer, more fluid lines. or the slight bounce of the Tibetan, Shantidevas lines are crisp, concise, and memorable; they flow easily off the tongue and into memory. They rattle about semiconsciously in the mind and, when a situation arises, pop up as aphorisms reminding us how to think or act. The meter becomes a tool that helps Shantidevas work endure as living words in peoples hearts and on their tongues, not merely as dry ink on paper meant primarily for the eyes.

For these reasons, this translation is in unrhymed metered verse, generally matching the line length of the Tibetan and Sanskrit. However, I have allowed more irregularities in the English verse than there are in either the Sanskrit or Tibetan so as to avoid distorting the grammar in ways that might sound affected or old-fashioned to modern ears. four lines of Tibetan are rendered in five or six lines in English, and there is one spot in the eighth chapter where a complete stanza in the Sanskrit and Tibetan would not really stretch to much longer than an English couplet. The hope is that the verse will read naturally but rhythmically, much like the original and the Tibetan translation.

As I worked, I found that, counterintuitively, translating in meter actually helps render the meaning more closely. There is a temptation when translating to add words to clarify meaning, capture nuance, or somehow be more expressive. But sometimes this has the opposite effect and inadvertently clouds the meaningas the Tibetan proverb says, The leaves of words obscure the trunk of meaning. Even when it does not, it can encourage readers to engage in inflationary interpretations of the work. Following the stricture of a short, consistent line length forces the translator to consider the authors intent more carefully and convey it economically. The line can then come closer to the original in meaning, pacing, and concision in a way that is more difficult than in prose, where the lack of the external discipline of line length and stress pattern makes it harder to resist when a sentence begs hungrily for more verbiage.