Prayer for the Chúc Thực Rite

Namo Amitābha Buddha! Namo Amitābha Buddha! Namo Amitābha Buddha! - I bow to the nine directions of Heaven, the ten directions of all Buddhas, the Buddhas of the ten directions. - I respectfully bow to the local Tutelary Deities and Great Sovereigns. - I respectfully bow to the Eastern Kitchen Sovereign of Destiny, Lord of the Kitchen Court. - I respectfully bow to the family ancestors, the High Ancestors and Ancestresses of the family……… Today is the … day of the …. month, year …… The eldest son (or eldest grandson) is……… following the command of the mother (if mourning the mother, or the father if mourning the father) and the uncles, together with brothers-in-law, elder sisters, younger brothers and sisters, sons-in-law and daughters-in-law, descendants of both paternal and maternal sides, respectfully bow. Now on this Chúc Thực rite according to traditional ceremony, We respectfully present a modest offering to express our sincerity, Before the spirit-tablet of: Hiển… true spirit. We respectfully report: We humbly reflect — born in this world, Few live to eighty or ninety, Twenty or thirty years also count as a lifetime. Yet how can one escape the workings of fate? We remember the spirit of old: in the prime of youth, With the great kindness of mother and father, who day and night taught us: The ways of eating, of living, of household and family. They also took care to arrange a suitable home, That we might gather the bamboo and apricot blossoms. The great moral order, the heart filial and grateful, Frugal and diligent, we hold dear morning and evening. We have been able to continue the family's foundation, With three worries and seven thoughts, hardship in every direction, To make all paths complete, Though toiling, your heart had not yet fully rested; Suddenly the great wind broke the apricot branch, The flower fell from the tree, petals scattered; The swallow left its nest, calling forlornly into the spring. We had hoped your spirit would live long, guiding the children, urging them to grow into good people. Who knew the moon would set, the stars move, your spirit gone to the Western Pure Land. From now, who shall tend the chrysanthemum garden, the peach-tree wall. From now, the home is empty, the southern root, the northern branch. Through the long six watches of day, the empty five watches of night: We think we glimpse you fleeting outside the curtain. We think we see your image faintly in the smoke. The apricot eaves cast shadows; we step in dazed, step out lost. Done with waiting, the rosy sun grows cold — Who can know one's destiny! The elixir of long life, asked of the Western Mother, was not granted. The red brush of fate, blamed on Nam Tào for being decided too soon. Mournful at the scene, tears stream down in rivers. Remembering your places of eating, dwelling, lying down: Like a knife to the gut, the children's hearts in this mortal world examine themselves. These few lines we recount. We call your spirit to come, to lament with us. May your sacred spirit shelter the descendants. May the Buddhas and Spirits assist, that the spirit may be liberated… Namo Amitābha Buddha! Namo Amitābha Buddha! Namo Amitābha Buddha!