Indeed, life is brief, Even a hundred years pass swiftly by; Whoever may live beyond this, Still, ultimately, is worn away by old age.

People grieve over their possessions; Truly, no possessions are permanent. Realizing separation is ever-present, One should dwell free from possessions.

By death, that too is relinquished, That which one deems as 'mine'; Realizing this, the wise, Should not cling to selfhood.

Just as a dream encountered, that a person no longer sees on waking up; Similarly, the beloved, once departed, Once dead, are no longer seen.

Even those people who have been seen and heard, Whose names are often spoken; Only their names will remain, Merely as symbols of the departed.

Grief, lamentation, and stinginess, Are not abandoned by the greedy for possessions; Therefore, sages, renouncing attachments, Practiced, observing safety and peace.

A bhikkhu who practices withdrawal, Finding solace in a secluded seat; They call this harmony, For he does not show a self in his dwelling.

The sage, unattached, impartial everywhere, Neither favors the dear nor rejects the disliked; In him, neither lamentation nor greed takes hold, Like water that does not cling to a leaf.

Just like a water droplet on a lotus, That does not stick to the lotus; So too, the sage remains unattached, To what is seen, heard, or sensed.

The purified one forms no notions, From what is seen, heard, or sensed; He seeks purity from no other source, For he is neither bound by desire nor seeks to escape it.