Another text for the Indra rite, praying that the Khitan troops be turned away又丹兵祈禳帝釋道場文
除人之害。雖佛亦容。頑戎加殘物之凶。無若今之尤甚。釋帝有降魔之力。移諸此也非難。宜矗哀叫之聲。仰聒至明之聽。伏念某等庸虛忝位。輔相無能。屢遭氈毳之侵陵。旣難制禦。雖有金湯之險固。尙且兢危。由此遷僻地之榛荒。自我失神州之綺麗。歷世都邑。一朝丘墟。猶不爲之恥焉。盖欲避其難耳。何醜徒之踵至。遍外境以橫行。京師若一身也。雖幸免於毒牙。郡縣乃四支也。無奈委於饞吻。未聞皮剝而毛之能傳。豈有脣亡而齒得不寒。如予三事之臣。終不可安然忍視。捨我六天之主。又於何訴此危悰。斯扣靈庥。寔張覺席。仰線臺而歌詠聖號。繙貝牒而讀宣秘文。玆一七日之熏功。儻格他鑒。彼百千帳之獷種。卽爲我擒。伏願仗大神通。添新氣力。列郡倂力。掃羣虜之羶腥。疲民息肩。致庶邦之寧靜。
To do away with what harms people is a thing the Buddha too allows. Never has the foulness of stubborn barbarians harming all living things been added to as grievously as today. Indra has the power to make the demon armies surrender, and it is not hard to turn that power this way. Fittingly we raise the sound of our mournful crying and look up to trouble the ears of the utterly bright.
Prostrate, we consider that we, So-and-so, mean and empty, have shamed our seats and have no skill in aiding the government. Meeting again and again the incursions of the fur-clad host, we already find them hard to bar; and though there is the steep firmness of an iron-girt wall and a boiling moat, we are still afraid and in peril. Because of this we moved to the rough thickets of an out-of-the-way land, and with our own hands we lost the fair capital. The seat of many reigns was laid waste in a single morning, and yet we are not ashamed, because we meant only to escape that hardship.
How is it that the filthy host arrives one band after another and roams at will through all the outer borders? The capital is like a single body and has happily escaped their venomous teeth; but the districts are its arms and legs, and what can be done when they are given over to a ravenous mouth? One has never heard of hair still clinging after the hide is flayed; and how should the teeth not ache when the lips are gone? A servant such as I, made a minister of state, cannot in the end bear to sit at ease and merely look on. If we forsake our Lord of the Six Heavens, where else should we plead this perilous heart?
And so we knock at numinous help and truly spread the seat of awakening. Looking up at the altar dressed with threads, we sing the holy names; turning the pattra-leaf scriptures, we read out and unfold the secret writings. If this merit of seven days' incense should reach that bright discernment, then the fierce host of a hundred thousand tents will at once be taken captive by us.
Prostrate, we pray that, leaning on your great spiritual power, we be given fresh strength; that the many districts join their force and sweep away the rank stench of all the barbarians; and that the weary people rest their shoulders, so that the whole country be at peace and still.