THE SONG OF THE SNOW ~ by Milarepa
 
" On this auspicious, glorious day, you male and female benefactors who welcome me with prostrations, along with myself, the yogi Milarepa: we didn’t perish, and have met. 
Oh how joyful! 
I’m an old man with a treasury of songs, so I’ll answer your query of my health with this tune; listen carefully with focused, attentive minds. 
At the very end of the Tiger year and at the beginning of the year of the Hare, on the full moon of the Wagyal month, disillusioned with the things of samsara, I went seeking a secluded retreat in the remote pastures of the lachi snowy range. 
The land and sky conferred together and sent down a messenger, a strong wind. With the elements of water and wind astir, black southern clouds gathered in front. The sun and moon were put into prison. The twenty-eight constellations were strung on a wire. The eight planets were put into shackles by edict. The great milky way was tethered down. The morning star was completely wrapped in mist. Wind with sleet blew, and finally, snow fell for nine days and nine nights; with the days and nights together totaling eighteen. The big flakes were big; they fell like thick layers of wool, like birds in flight that plummet down. The small flakes were small; they fell like tiny wheels, like bees flying around, then dropping down. Other small flakes the size of mustard seeds and beans, lumped together and fell like balls of sleet. Snow fell in more sizes than one could count. High above, the snowy white peaks touched the sky. Below, the plants and trees were matted and pressed. The mountains of black donned a blanket of white, an ocean with waves that were frozen over. The blue rivers’ waters were put in a shell. The contour of the land was evened to a plain. Because this snowfall was so great, the black-haired people became socked in. The four-legged creatures were stricken with famine: especially the old, weak ones’ sustenance was cut. Above, the birds’ food source was depleted. Below, the pikas and mice hid in their stores. The meat-eating animals were unable to eat. 
As for the fate of such sleet and strong wind and particularly the fate of me, Milarepa: that blizzard that came down from above, the strong winter wind of the new year, and I, the yogi Milarepa’s cloth, these three, all fought on the side of the high snow mountain. 
But I was victorious over the snowfall, and it melted to water. Though the wind roared powerfully, it naturally subsided, and my cloth, like fire, was blazing strong! two wrestlers contended there in a life-or-death match. I gave it the edge of my kingly sword. I was victorious in that fight where the valiant ones were overthrown; thus, all dharma practitioners earned some clout especially meditators, twice as much; in particular, my single chandali cloth showed its greatness. The four gatherings of illness were put on the scale. Then, inner disturbances were completely vanquished. Both cold and hot pranas were fully cast out. Later, the [elements] listened and heeded what was said. The demon of snow and sleet was suppressed. Then, all was resolved and completely still. Though samsara’s brigade tried, it didn’t succeed. 
Thus, this yogi won the fight. I’m my grandfather’s descendant, with the coat of a tiger; I’ve never fled wearing the coat of a fox. to my father was born a son of the class of champions; I’ve never lost in the face of a foe. i’m of the family of lions, the king of beasts; I’ve never lived in a snowless land. fate has once again played its joke. If you trust that what this old man says has any power, the practice lineage teachings will spread in the future, a few siddhas will also come, and I, the yogi milarepa, will be renowned throughout the lands. You disciples will have faith and fame of you will later spread. I, a yogi, am very well. 
You benefactors, how are you? "
 
[ Quotes from ~ Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche. Text excerpt from Tsangnyon Heruka, translated by Christopher Stagg. ]