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.