Book XI. Old Age, Jarā Vagga

146

Why laughter? why exultation? For the world is ever aflame.
Will ye not seek a light, ye that are shrouded in darkness?

147

See this painted image, this mass of sores, huddled together,
Corrupt, once possessed of many thoughts, but now possessing neither strength nor stability.

148

This body is worn out, this nest of disease, this fragile body;
This mass of corruption dissolves; for life ends in death.

149

Like yonder gourds cast away in the autumn
Are these gray bones; what pleasure can there be in looking at them?

150

It is a city made of bones, plastered with flesh and blood,
Where lodge old age and death and pride and deceit.

151

The gayly painted chariots of kings wear out; likewise does the body wear out.
But the state of the good wears not away; the good proclaim this to the good.

152

A man who has learned but little, grows old like an ox;
His flesh increases, but his wisdom, not.

153, 154

Through a round of countless existences have I run to no purpose,
Seeking the Builder of the House. Repeated birth is suffering.

I see you, Builder of the House. You shall not build the house again.
All your rafters are broken, and your ridge-pole is shattered.
The mind, at rest in Nibbāna, has attained extinction of cravings.

155, 156

They that have not led the holy life, they that have not obtained wealth in time of youth,
Perish like worn-out herons in a pond from which the fish have disappeared.

They that have not led the holy life, they that have not obtained wealth in time of youth,
Lie like worn-out bows, bewailing the times that are past.