Theragāthā (Psalms of the Brethren)

Giving up a hundred ounces of bronze, and a hundred grains of gold, I took a bowl made of clay: this is my second initiation.

When you see a sight, mindfulness is lost as you focus on a pleasant feature. Experiencing it with a mind full of desire, you keep clinging to it. Your defilements grow, leading to the root of rebirth.

When you hear a sound, mindfulness is lost as you focus on a pleasant feature. Experiencing it with a mind full of desire, you keep clinging to it. Your defilements grow, leading to transmigration.

Accomplished in the four right efforts, mindfulness meditation is your range; festooned with the flowers of liberation, undefiled, you’ll be fully quenched.

He’s given up the household life, <j>but is far from perfect. Living for his belly, lazy, <j>he uses his snout as a plow, like a great hog stuffed with grain. That dullard is reborn again and again.

Deceived by conceit, defiled among conditions, oppressed by gain and loss, they don’t reach immersion.

I have no need of this— I’m happy and satisfied with the sweet teaching. I’ve drunk the best, the supreme nectar: I won’t go near poison.

Hey! My body is light, full of so much rapture and happiness. My body feels like it’s floating, like cotton in a gale.

Dissatisfied, one should not stay; and even if happy, one should leave. One who sees clearly wouldn’t stay in a place that was not conducive to the goal.

Though the meaning has a hundred facets, and bears a hundred characteristics, the simpleton sees only one factor, while the sage sees a hundred.

After investigating, I went forth from the lay life to homelessness. I’ve attained the three knowledges and fulfilled the Buddha’s instructions.

At 120 years old I went forth to homelessness. I’ve attained the three knowledges and fulfilled the Buddha’s instructions.

Even on retreat he doesn’t heed the counsel of the one with supreme compassion for his welfare. He lives with unrestrained faculties, like a young deer in the woods.

The trees on the mountain tops have grown tall, freshly sprinkled by towering clouds. For Usabha, who loves seclusion, <j>and who thinks only of wilderness, goodness flourishes more and more.

Going forth is hard; living at home is hard; Dhamma is profound; money is hard to come by. Getting by is difficult for we <j>who accept whatever comes, so we should always think about impermanence.

I am a master of the three knowledges, <j>I’m a great meditator, an expert in serenity of heart. I’ve realized my heart’s goal and fulfilled the Buddha’s instructions.

The water’s clear and the rocks are broad, monkeys and deer are all around; festooned with dewy moss, these rocky crags delight me!

Your body is uncomfortably heavy, and life is running out; greedy for physical pleasure, how can you find happiness as an ascetic?

By Mount Nesādaka, with its famous covering of abundant shrubs and trees, you’re found deficient.

I’ve given up the six spheres of sense-contact, my sense doors are guarded and well restrained; I’ve ejected the root of gloom and attained the ending of defilements.

I’m well-anointed and well-dressed, adorned with all my jewelry. I’ve attained the three knowledges and fulfilled the Buddha’s instructions.

Old age falls like a curse; it’s the same body, but it seems like someone else’s. I remember myself as if I were someone else, but I’m still the same, I haven’t been away.

You’ve left for the jungle, the root of a tree, having laid extinguishment in your heart. Meditate, Gotama, don’t be negligent! What use is this hullabaloo to you?

The five aggregates are fully understood, they remain, but their root is cut. I have reached the end of suffering and attained the ending of defilements.

No life is permanent, and no conditions last forever. The aggregates are reborn and pass away, again and again.

Knowing this danger, I have no need for another life. I’ve escaped all sensual pleasures, and attained the ending of defilements. That is how these verses were recited by the senior venerable Uttara.

You can’t live by fasting, but food doesn’t lead to peace of heart. Seeing how this bag of bones is sustained by food, I wander, seeking.

They know it’s just a swamp, this homage and veneration in respectable families. Honor is a subtle dart, hard to extract, and hard for a reprobate to give up. That is how these verses were recited by the senior venerable Bhāradvāja the Alms-Gatherer.

A monkey went up to the little hut with five doors. He circles around, knocking on each door, again and again.

Stand still monkey, don’t run! Things are different now; you’ve been caught by wisdom— you won’t go far.

My hut on the bank of the Ganges is made from three palm leaves. My alms-bowl is a funeral pot, my robe is cast-off rags.

In my first two rainy seasons I spoke only one word. In my third rainy season the mass of darkness was shattered.

Even a master of the three knowledges, undefiled, conqueror of death, is looked down upon for being unknown by ignorant fools.

But any individual here who gets food and drink is honored by them, even if they are of bad character.

When I heard the Teacher speaking Dhamma, I wasn’t aware of any doubt in the all-knowing, unconquered one,

the caravan leader, the great hero, the most excellent of charioteers. I have no doubt in the path or practice.

Just as rain seeps into a poorly roofed house, lust seeps into an undeveloped mind.

Just as rain doesn’t seep into a well roofed house, lust doesn’t seep into a well-developed mind.

Rebirth is ended for me; the victor’s instruction is fulfilled; what they call a “net” is given up; the leash to existence is eradicated.

I’ve attained the goal for the sake of which I went forth from the lay life to homelessness— the ending of all fetters.

Sages sleep at ease when they’re not bound to women. For the truth is hard to find among them and one must always be guarded.

Sensual pleasure, you’ve been slain! We’re not in your debt any more. Now we go to extinguishment, where there is no sorrow.

First one kills oneself, then one kills others. One kills oneself, really dead, like one who kills birds using a dead bird as a decoy.

A brahmin’s color is not on the outside; a brahmin is colored on the inside. Whoever harbors bad deeds is truly a dark one, Sujampati.

It’s from eagerness to learn that learning grows; when you’re learned, wisdom grows; by wisdom, you know the goal; knowing the goal brings happiness.

You should frequent remote lodgings and practice to be released from fetters. If you don’t find enjoyment there, live in the Saṅgha, self-protected and mindful.

People who act harshly— attacking people, binding them with rope, hurting them in all kinds of ways— they’re treated in the same way; their deeds don’t vanish.

Whatever deeds a person does, whether good or bad, they are the heir to each and every deed they do.

The days and nights rush by, and then life is cut short. The life of mortals wastes away, like the water in tiny streams.

But while doing bad deeds the fool doesn’t realize— it’ll be bitter later on; for the result will be bad for them.

If you’re lost in the middle of a great sea, and you clamber up on a little log, you’ll sink. So too, a person who lives well sinks by relying on a lazy person. Hence you should avoid such a lazy person who lacks energy.

Dwell with the noble ones who are secluded and determined and always energetic; the astute who practice absorption.

People are attached to people; people depend on people; people are hurt by people; and people hurt people.

So what’s the point of people, or those born of people? Go, abandon these people, who’ve hurt so many people.

There’s a big black woman who looks like a crow. She broke off thigh-bones, first one then another; she broke off arm-bones, first one then another; she broke off a skull like a curd-bowl, and then arranged them and sat nearby.

When an ignorant person builds up attachments, that dullard returns to suffering again and again. So let one who understands <j>not build up attachments: may I never again lie with a broken skull!

A shaven one wrapped in the outer robe gets many enemies when they receive food and drink, clothes and bedding.

Knowing this danger, this great fear in honors, a mendicant should wander mindful, with few possessions, not festering.

In the Park of the East-Raftered Hall the Sakyan friends, having given up great wealth, are happy with the scraps in their bowls.

Energetic, resolute, always staunchly vigorous; having given up mundane delights, they enjoy the delights of the Dhamma.

Because of focusing on the wrong things, I was addicted to ornamentation. I was vain, fickle, racked by desire for pleasures of the senses.

But with the help of the Buddha, the Kinsman of the Sun, so skilled in means, I practiced rationally and extracted attachment to continued existence from my mind.

If others praise one who has no immersion, they praise in vain, as one has no immersion.

If others criticize one who does have immersion, they criticize in vain, as one does have immersion.

I’ve fully understood the aggregates; I’ve eradicated craving; I’ve developed the factors of awakening, I’ve attained the ending of defilements.

Having fully understood the aggregates, having plucked out the weaver of the web, having developed the factors of awakening, being undefiled, I will be fully extinguished.

There was a king named Panāda who had a sacrificial post all golden. Its height was sixteen times its width, and the top was a thousandfold.

It had a thousand panels and a hundred ball-caps, all adorned with banners, and made of sun gold. There danced the centaurs, numbering seven times six thousand.

As a monk, mindful and wise, empowered and full of energy, I recollected five hundred eons in a single night.

Developing the four mindfulness meditations, the seven factors of awakening, <j>and the eightfold path, I recollected five hundred eons in a single night.

The duty of one whose energy is strong; the duty of one who longs to wake up: that I’ll do, I won’t fail— see my energy and vigor!

Teach me the path, the direct route whose objective is freedom from death. I’ll know it with wisdom, as the Ganges knows the ocean.

The barber approached to shave my head. I picked up a mirror and examined my body.

My body appeared hollow; I once was blind, but the darkness disappeared. My fancy hairdo has been cut off: now there’ll be no more future lives.

I gave up the five hindrances for the sake of sanctuary from the yoke. I took Dhamma as a mirror for knowing and seeing myself.

I examined this body, all of it, inside and out. Internally and externally my body appeared hollow.

Though a fine thoroughbred may stumble, it soon stands firm again. It gains even more urgency, and draws its load undeterred.

Even so is one accomplished in vision, a disciple of the Buddha. Remember me as a thoroughbred, the Buddha’s bosom son.

Come, Nandaka, let’s go to visit our preceptor. We’ll roar our lion’s roar before the best of Buddhas.

The sage gave us the going forth out of compassion, so we could realize the ending of all fetters— now we have reached that goal.

This is how the wise roar: like lions in mountain caves, heroes, triumphant in battle, having vanquished Māra with his legions.

I’ve served the Teacher; I’ve honored the Dhamma and the Saṅgha; I’m happy and joyful, because I’ve seen my son free of defilements.

I regularly sat close by true persons and learnt the teaching. What I learned, I practiced, the direct route whose objective is freedom from death.

I’ve slain the desire for continued existence, it won’t be found in me again. It was not, and it won’t be in me, and it isn’t found in me now.

When I had gone forth in the teaching of the Buddha, while letting go, I rose up; escaping the sensual realm.

Then, as the supreme one looked on, my mind was freed. My freedom is unshakable with the ending of all fetters.

Houses are impermanent— on and on, life after life. I’ve been searching for the house-builder— painful is birth again and again.

I’ve seen you, house-builder! You won’t build a house again. Your rafters are all broken, your ridgepole is shattered. My mind is without boundaries: in this very life it will dissipate.

The perfected one, the Holy One in the world, the sage is afflicted by winds. If there’s hot water, give it to the sage, brahmin.

I wish to bring it to the one who is esteemed by the estimable, honored by the honorable, and venerated by the venerable.

I’ve seen lay disciples <j>who have memorized discourses, saying, “Sensual pleasures are impermanent”. But they’re obsessed with jeweled earrings, concerned for their partners and children.

To be honest, they don’t know Dhamma, even though they say <j>“Sensual pleasures are impermanent”. They don’t have the power to cut their lust, so they cling to children, wives, and wealth.

The heavens rain, the heavens pour, I’m staying alone in a frightful hole. But while I’m staying alone in that frightful hole, I’ve no fear, no dread, no goosebumps.

This is my normal state while staying alone in a frightful hole: I’ve no fear, no dread, no goosebumps.

Whose mind is like a rock, steady, never trembling— free of desire for desirable things, not getting annoyed when things are annoying? From where will suffering strike one whose mind is developed like this?

My mind is like a rock, steady, never trembling— free of desire for desirable things, not getting annoyed when things are annoying. From where will suffering strike me whose mind is developed like this?

Night, with her garland of stars, is not only for sleeping. For those who know, this night is really for waking.

Were I to fall from the back of an elephant, trampled by the tuskers that follow, better for me to die in battle, than to live on in defeat.

One who’s given up the five sensual stimuli, so pleasing and delightful, and who’s left the home life out of faith— let them make an end to suffering!

I don’t long for death; I don’t long for life; I await my time, aware and mindful.