ထေရီဂါထာပါဠိ

They like to work, they’re not lazy; by giving up greed and hate, they do the best kind of work— that’s why I like ascetics.

As for the three roots of evil, by pure deeds they shake them off. They have given up all wickedness— that’s why I like ascetics.

Their bodily actions are pure; their actions of speech likewise; their actions of mind are pure— that’s why I like ascetics.

Immaculate as a conch-shell, they’re pure inside and out, full of bright qualities— that’s why I like ascetics.

They’re learned and memorize the teaching, noble, living righteously, teaching the text and its meaning: that’s why I like ascetics.

They’re learned and memorize the teaching, noble, living righteously, unified in mind, and mindful— that’s why I like ascetics.

Traveling afar, and mindful, thoughtful in counsel, not restless, they understand the end of suffering— that’s why I like ascetics.

When they leave a village, they don’t look back with longing, but proceed without concern— that’s why I like ascetics.

They hoard no goods in storerooms, nor in pots or baskets. They seek food prepared by others— that’s why I like ascetics.

They don’t receive gold coins, or gold or silver; feeding on whatever comes that day, that’s why I like ascetics.

They have gone forth from different families, even different countries, and yet they all love one another— that’s why I like ascetics.”

“Dear Rohinī, it was truly for our benefit that you were born in our family! You have faith and such keen respect for the Buddha, his teaching, and the Saṅgha.

For you understand this supreme field of merit. These ascetics will henceforth receive our religious donation, too.

For there we will place our sacrifice, and it shall be abundant.” “If you fear suffering, if you don’t like suffering,

go for refuge to the Buddha, the unaffected, to his teaching and to the Saṅgha. Undertake the precepts, that will be good for you.”

“I go for refuge to the Buddha, the unaffected, to his teaching and to the Saṅgha. I undertake the precepts, that will be good for me.

I used to be brahmin only by kin, now I genuinely am a brahmin. Master of the three knowledges, I’m a scholar, a knowledge master, a bathed initiate.”

Verses of the Senior Nuns 13.3 The Book of the Twenties Cāpā “Once I carried a hermit’s staff, but these days I hunt deer. My desires have made me unable to cross from the awful marsh to the far shore.

Thinking me so in love with her, Cāpā kept our son happy. Having cut Cāpā’s bond, I’ll go forth once again.”

“Don’t be mad at me, great hero! Don’t be mad at me, great sage! If you’re mired in anger you can’t stay pure, let alone be fervent.”

“I’m going to leave Nālā! For who’d stay here at Nālā! With their figures, the women trap ascetics who live righteously.”

“Please, Kāḷa, come back to me. Enjoy pleasures like you did before. I’ll be under your control, along with any relatives I have.”

“Cāpā, if even a quarter of what you say were true, it would be a splendid thing for a man in love with you!”

“Kāḷa, I am like a sprouting iris flowering on a mountain top, like a blossoming pomegranate, like a patala tree on an isle;

my limbs are anointed with yellow sandalwood, and I wear the finest Kāsi cloth: when I am so very beautiful, how can you abandon me and leave?”

“You’re like a fowler who wants to catch a bird; but you won’t trap me with your costumed form.”

“But this child, my fruit, was begotten by you, Kāḷa. When I have this child, how can you abandon me and leave?”

“The wise give up children, family, and wealth. Great heroes go forth like elephants breaking their bonds.”

“Now, this son of yours: I’ll strike him to the ground right here, with a stick or with a knife! Grieving your son, you will not leave.”

“Even if you feed our son to jackals and dogs, I’d never return again, you bitch, not even for the child’s sake.”

“Well then, sir, tell me, where will you go, Kāḷa? To what village or town, city or capital?”

“Last time we had followers, we weren’t ascetics, we just thought we were. We wandered from village to village, to cities and capitals.

But now the Blessed One, the Buddha, back on the bank of the Nerañjara River, teaches the Dhamma so that living creatures may abandon all suffering. I shall go to his presence, he shall be my Teacher.”

“Now please convey my respects to the supreme protector of the world. Circling him to your right, dedicate my religious donation.”

“This is the proper thing to do, just as you have said to me. I’ll convey your respects to the supreme protector of the world. Circling him to my right, I’ll dedicate your religious donation.”

Then Kāḷa set out back to the bank of the Nerañjara River. He saw the Awakened One teaching the state free of death:

suffering, suffering’s origin, suffering’s transcendence, and the noble eightfold path that leads to the stilling of suffering.

He paid homage at his feet, circling him to his right, and conveyed Cāpā’s dedication; then he went forth to homelessness. He attained the three knowledges, and fulfilled the Buddha’s instructions.

Verses of the Senior Nuns 13.4 The Book of the Twenties Sundarī “Before, worthy lady, when feeding your departed children, you’d be racked with despair all day and all night.

Today, brahmin lady, you have fed all seven children. Vāseṭṭhī, how do you explain why you’re not so filled with despair?”

“Many hundreds of children, hundreds of family circles, both mine and yours, brahmin, have been fed in the past.

Having known the escape from rebirth and death I neither grieve nor lament, nor do I despair.”

“Wow, Vaseṭṭhī, the words you speak really are amazing! Whose teaching did you understand that you say these things?”

“Brahmin, the Awakened One back at the city of Mithilā, teaches the Dhamma so that living creatures may abandon all suffering.

After hearing the perfected one’s teaching, brahmin, which is free of all attachments, having understood the true teaching there, I’ve cast aside grief for children.”

“I too shall go to the city of Mithilā. Hopefully the Buddha may release me from all suffering.”

The brahmin saw the Buddha, liberated, free of attachments. He taught him the Dhamma, the sage gone beyond suffering:

suffering, suffering’s origin, suffering’s transcendence, and the noble eightfold path that leads to the stilling of suffering.

Having understood the true teaching there, he chose to go forth. Three days later Sujāta realized the three knowledges.

“Please, charioteer, go; take back this carriage. Bidding my brahmin lady good health, say: ‘The brahmin has now gone forth. After three days, Sujāta realized the three knowledges.’”

Then taking the carriage, along with a thousand coins, the charioteer bade the brahmin lady good health, and said: “The brahmin has now gone forth. After three days, Sujāta realized the three knowledges.”

Hearing that the brahmin had the three knowledges, <j>the lady replied: “I present to you this horse and carriage, O charioteer, along with 1000 coins, and a full bowl as a gift.”

“Keep the horse and carriage, lady, along with the thousand coins. I too shall go forth in his presence, the one of such outstanding wisdom.”

“Elephants, cattle, jeweled earrings, such opulent domestic worth: having given it up, your father went forth, enjoy these riches Sundarī, you are the family heir.”

“Elephants, cattle, jeweled earrings, such delightful domestic worth: having given it up, my father went forth, racked by grief for his son. I too shall go forth, racked by grief for my brother.”

“Sundarī, may the wish you desire come true. Leftovers as gleanings, and cast-off rags as robes— make do with these, free of defilements regarding the next life.”

“Ma’am, while I am still a trainee nun, my clairvoyance is clarified; I know my past lives, the places I used to live.

Relying on a fine lady like you, a senior nun who graces the Saṅgha, I’ve attained the three knowledges, and fulfilled the Buddha’s instructions.

Give me permission ma’am, I wish to go to Sāvatthī, where I shall roar my lion’s roar before the best of Buddhas.”

“Sundarī, see the Teacher! Snow gold in tint, <j>with sun-golden skin; tamer of the untamed, the Awakened One who fears nothing <j>from any quarter.”

“See Sundarī coming, liberated, free of attachments. desireless, detached, her task completed, without defilements.”

“Having set forth from Varanasi and come to your presence, great hero, your disciple Sundarī bows at your feet.

You are the Buddha, you are the Teacher, I am your bosom daughter, brahmin, born of your mouth. I’ve completed the task <j>and am free of defilements.”

“Then welcome, good lady, you’re by no means unwelcome. For this is how the tamed come bowing at the Teacher’s feet; desireless, detached, the task completed, without defilements.”

Verses of the Senior Nuns 13.5 The Book of the Twenties Subhā, the Smith’s Daughter “I was so young, my clothes so fresh, at that time I heard the teaching. Being diligent, I comprehended the truth;

and then I became profoundly dispassionate toward all sensual pleasures. Seeing fear in substantial reality, I longed for renunciation.

Giving up my family circle, bonded servants and workers, and my flourishing village fields, so delightful and pleasant,

I went forth; all that is no small wealth. Now that I’ve renounced in faith like this, in the true teaching so well proclaimed,

since I desire to have nothing, it would not be appropriate to take back gold and currency, having already got rid of them.

Currency or gold doesn’t lead to peace and awakening. It doesn’t befit an ascetic; it’s not the wealth of the noble ones;

it’s greed and vanity, confusion and growing decadence, dubious and troublesome— there is nothing lasting there.

Depraved and heedless, unenlightened folk, their hearts corrupt, fight each other, creating conflict.

Killing, caging, misery, loss, grief, and lamentation; those sunk in sensual pleasures see many disastrous things.

My family, why do you urge me on to pleasures, as if you were my enemies? You know I’ve gone forth, seeing fear in sensual pleasures.

It’s not due to gold, coined or uncoined, that defilements come to an end. Sensual pleasures are enemies and killers, hostile forces that bind you to thorns.

My family, why do you urge me on to pleasures, as if you were my enemies? You know I’ve gone forth, shaven, wrapped in my outer robe.

Leftovers as gleanings, and cast-off rags as robes— that’s what’s fitting for me, the essentials of the homeless life.

Great seers expel sensual pleasures, both human and heavenly. Safe in their sanctuary, they are freed, having found unshakable happiness.

May I not encounter sensual pleasures, for no shelter is found in them. Sensual pleasures are enemies and killers, as painful as a mass of fire.

This is a roadblock, a threat, full of distress and thorns; it is a blind spot, uneven, a great gateway to confusion.

Hazardous and terrifying, sensual pleasures are like a cobra’s head, where fools delight, the blind ordinary folk.

Stuck in the swamp of sensuality, there are so many ignorant in the world. They know nothing of the end of rebirth and death.

Because of sensual pleasures, people jump right on to the path <j>that goes to a bad place. So many walk the path that brings disease onto themselves.

That’s how sensual pleasures create enemies; they are so tormenting, so corrupting, trapping beings with worldly pleasures of the flesh, they are nothing less than the bonds of death.

Maddening, enticing, sensual pleasures derange the mind. For the corruption of beings, swiftly ensnared by Māra.

Sensual pleasures are infinitely dangerous, they’re full of suffering, a terrible poison; offering little gratification, they’re makers of strife, withering bright qualities away.

Since I’ve created so much ruination because of sensual pleasures, I will not relapse to them again, but will always delight in extinguishment.

Having once made strife <j>for the sake of sensual pleasures, now I am longing for that cool state. I shall meditate diligently for the ending of all fetters.

Sorrowless, stainless, secure— I follow that path, the straight noble eightfold way by which the seers have crossed over.”

“Look at this: Subhā the smith’s daughter, standing firm in the teaching. She has entered the imperturbable state, meditating at the root of a tree.

It’s just eight days since she went forth, the faithful one, grace of the true teaching. Guided by Uppalavaṇṇā, she is master of the three knowledges, <j>conqueror of death.

This one is freed from slavery and debt, a nun with faculties developed. Unyoked from all yokes, she has completed the task <j>and is free of defilements.”

Thus did Sakka, lord of all creatures, along with a host of gods, having come by their psychic powers, honor Subhā, the smith’s daughter.

Verses of the Senior Nuns 14.1 The Book of the Thirties Subhā of Jīvaka’s Mango Grove Going to the lovely mango grove of Jīvaka, the nun Subhā was held up by a rascal. Subhā said this to him:

“What harm have I done to you, that you stand in my way? Respectable sir, it’s not proper that a man should touch a woman gone forth.

This training was taught by the Holy One, it is a serious matter in my teacher’s instructions. I am pure and rid of blemishes, so why do you stand in my way?

One whose mind is clouded against one unclouded; one who is lustful against one free of lust; unblemished, my heart is freed in every respect, so why do you stand in my way?”

“You’re young and flawless— what will going-forth do for you? Throw away the ocher robe, come and play in the blossom grove.

Everywhere, the scent of pollen wafts sweet, born of the flowering woods. The start of spring is a happy time— come and play in the blossom grove.

And trees crested with flowers cry out, as it were, in the gale. But what kind of fun will you have if you plunge into the woods all alone?

Frequented by packs of predators, and cow elephants aroused by rutting bulls; you wish to go without a friend to the deserted, awe-inspiring forest.

Like a doll made of glittering gold, like a nymph wandering the park of bright vines, your matchless beauty will shine in graceful clothes of delicate Kāsian cloth.

I’ll be under your sway, if we are to stay in the forest. I love no creature more than you, O pixie with such captivating eyes.

Were you to take up my invitation— ‘Come, be happy, and live in a house’— you’ll stay in a longhouse sheltered from wind; let the ladies look to your needs.

Dressed in delicate Kāsian cloth, put on your garlands and your cosmetics. I’ll make all sorts of adornments for you, of lustrous gold and gems and pearls.

Climb onto a costly bed, its coverlet so clean and nice, with a new woolen mattress, so fragrant, sprinkled with sandalwood.

As a blue lily risen from the water remains untouched by men, so too, O chaste and holy lady, your limbs grow old unshared.”

“This carcass is full of putrefaction, it swells the charnel ground, for its nature is to fall apart. What do you think is so essential in it that you stare at me so crazily?”

“Your eyes are like those of a doe, or a pixie in the mountains; seeing them, erotic delight swells in me all the more.

Your eyes are like a blue lily’s bud in your flawless face <j>shining like coruscant gold. Seeing them, sensual excitement swells in me all the more.

Though you may wander far, I’ll still think of you, with lashes so long and eyes so bright. I love no eyes more than yours, O pixie with such bashful eyes.”

“You’re setting out on the wrong road! You’re looking to take the moon for your toy! You’re trying to leap over Mount Meru! You, who are hunting a child of the Buddha!

For in this world with all its gods, there will be no more lust anywhere in me. I don’t even know what kind it could be, it’s been smashed root and all by the path.

Cast out like sparks from fiery coals, it’s worth no more than a bowl of poison. I don’t even see what kind it could be, it’s been smashed root and all by the path.

Well may you try to seduce the type of lady who has not reflected on these things, or who has never attended the Teacher: but <em>this</em> is a lady who knows—now you’re in trouble!

No matter if I am reviled or praised, or feel pleasure or pain: I stay mindful. Knowing that conditions are ugly, my mind clings to nothing.

I am a disciple of the Holy One, riding in the carriage of the eightfold path. The dart pulled out, free of defilements, I’m happy to have reached an empty place.

I’ve seen brightly painted dolls and wooden puppets, tied to sticks and strings, and made to dance in many ways.

But when the sticks and strings are taken off— loosed, disassembled, dismantled, irrecoverable, stripped to parts— on what could the mind be fixed?

That’s what my body is really like, without those things it can’t go on. This being so, on what could the mind be fixed?

It’s like when you saw a mural made by painting yellow orpiment on a wall, and your vision was deceived by that— the perception ‘human’ is pointless.

Like an illusion cast before you, or a golden tree in a dream, you chase what is hollow, blind one, like a painted doll among the people.

Like a ball in a socket, with a pupil in the middle, and tears, and mucus comes from there as well, different eye-parts are lumped together.”

Having plucked it out, the fair-eyed lady was undismayed, unchained in mind. “Come now, take this eye,” she said, and gave it to the man right then.

And right then he lost his lust, and asked for her forgiveness: “May you be well, O chaste and holy lady; such a thing will not happen again.

Attacking a person such as this is like holding on to a blazing fire, or grabbing a deadly viper! May you be well, please forgive me.”

When that nun was released she went to the presence of the excellent Buddha. Seeing the one with excellent marks of merit, her eye became just as it was before.

Verses of the Senior Nuns 15.1 The Book of the Forties Isidāsī In Pāṭaliputta, the cream of the world, the city named for a flower, there were two nuns from the Sakyan clan, both of them ladies of quality.

One was named Isidāsī, the second Bodhī. They both were accomplished in ethics, lovers of meditation and chanting, learned, crushing corruptions.

They wandered for alms and had their meal. When they had washed their bowls, they sat happily in a private place and started a conversation.

“You’re so lovely, Mistress Isidāsī, your youth has not yet faded. What problem did you see that made you dedicate your life to renunciation?”

Being pressed like this in private, Isidāsī, skilled in teaching Dhamma, voiced the following words. “Bodhī, hear how I went forth.

In the fine town of Ujjenī, my father was a financier, a good and moral man. I was his only daughter, dear, beloved, and cherished.

Then some suitors came for me from the top family of Sāketa. They were sent by a financier abounding in wealth, to whom my father then gave me as daughter-in-law.

Come morning and come evening, I bowed with my head to the feet of my father and mother-in-law, just as I had been told.

Whenever I saw my husband’s sisters, his brothers, his servants, or even he, my one and only, I nervously gave them a seat.

Whatever they wanted—food and drink, treats, or whatever was in the cupboard— I brought out and offered to them, ensuring each got what was fitting.

Having risen bright and early, I approached the main house, washed my hands and feet, and went to my husband with cupped palms.

Taking a comb, adornments, eyeshadow, and a mirror, I myself did the makeup for my husband, as if I were his beautician.

I myself cooked the rice; I myself washed the pots. I looked after my husband like a mother her only child.

Thus I showed my devotion to him, a loyal, virtuous, and humble servant, getting up early, and working tirelessly: yet still my husband did me wrong.

He said to his mother and father: ‘I’ll take my leave and go, I can’t stand to live together with Isidāsī staying in the same house.’

‘Son, don’t speak like this! Isidāsī is astute and competent, she gets up early and works tirelessly, son, why doesn’t she please you?’

‘She hasn’t done anything to hurt me, but I just can’t stand to live with her. As far as I’m concerned, she’s just detestable. I’ve had enough, I’ll take my leave and go.’

When they heard his words, my father-in-law and mother-in-law asked me: ‘What did you do wrong? Boldly tell how it occurred.’

‘I’ve done nothing wrong, I haven’t hurt him, or said anything bad. What can I possibly do, when my husband finds me so hateful?’

They led me back to my father’s home, distraught, overcome with suffering, and said: ‘By caring for our son, we’ve lost her, so lovely and lucky!’

Next my dad gave me to the household of a second wealthy family-man. For this he got half the bride-price of that which the financier paid.

In his house I also lived a month, before he too wanted me gone; though I served him like a slave, virtuous and doing no wrong.

My father then spoke to a beggar for alms, a tamer of others and of himself: ‘Be my son-in-law; set aside your tonsure-cloth and pot.’

He stayed a fortnight before he said to my dad: ‘Give me back my tonsure-cloth, my pot and my mug— I’ll wander begging again.’

So then my mum and my dad and my whole group of relatives said: ‘What has not been done for you here? Quickly, tell us what we can do for you!’

When they spoke to him like this he said, ‘If I can make do for myself, that is enough. I can’t stand to live together with Isidāsī staying in the same house.’

Released, he left. But I sat all alone contemplating: ‘Having taken my leave, I’ll go, either to die or to go forth.’

But then Mistress Jinadattā, learned and virtuous, who had memorized the monastic law, came resorting to my dad’s house for alms.

When I saw her, I rose from my seat and prepared it for her. When she had taken her seat, I honored her feet and offered her a meal,

satiating her with food and drink, treats, or whatever was in the cupboard. Then I said: ‘Ma’am, I wish to go forth!’

But my dad said to me: ‘Child, practice Dhamma right here then! With food and drink satisfy ascetics and the twice-born.’

Then I said to my dad, crying, my cupped palms raised to him: ‘I’ve done bad things in the past; I shall wear that bad deed away.’

And my dad said to me: ‘May you attain awakening, the highest state, and may you find the extinguishment that was realized by the best of men!’

I bowed down to my mother and father, and my whole group of relatives; and then, seven days after going forth, I realized the three knowledges.

I know my last seven lives; I shall relate to you the deeds of which this life is the fruit and result: focus your whole mind on that.

In the city of Erakacca I was a goldsmith with lots of money. Drunk on the pride of youth, I had sex with someone else’s wife.

Having passed away from there, I burned in hell for a long time. Rising up from there I was conceived in a monkey’s womb.

When I was only seven days old, I was castrated by the monkey chief. This was the fruit of that deed, because of adultery with another’s wife.

Having passed away from there, passing away in Sindhava grove, I was conceived in the womb of a lame, one-eyed she-goat.

I carried children on my back for twelve years, and all the while I was castrated, worm-eaten, and tail-less, because of adultery with another’s wife.

Having passed away from there, I was reborn in a cow owned by a cattle merchant. A red calf, castrated, for twelve months

I drew a big plow. I shouldered a cart, blind, tail-less, feeble, because of adultery with another’s wife.

Having passed away from there, I was born of a slave in the street, with neither male nor female parts, because of adultery with another’s wife.

I died at thirty years of age, and was reborn as a girl in a carter’s family. We were poor, of little wealth, greatly oppressed by creditors.

Because of the massive interest we owed, I was dragged away screaming, taken by force from the family home by a caravan leader.

When I was sixteen years old, seeing I was a girl of marriageable age, his son confined me as his wife— Giridāsa was his name.

He also had another wife, a virtuous and well-known lady of quality, loyal to her husband; yet I stirred up resentment in her.

As the fruit of that deed, they abandoned me and left, though I served them like a slave. Now I’ve made an end to this as well.”

Verses of the Senior Nuns 16.1 The Great Book Sumedhā In Mantāvatī city, Sumedhā, the daughter of King Koñca’s chief queen, was converted by those who practice the Buddha’s teaching.

She was virtuous, a brilliant speaker, learned, and trained in the Buddha’s instructions. She went up to her mother and father and said: “Pay heed, both of you!

I delight in extinguishment! No state of life is eternal, not even that of the gods; what then of sensual pleasures, so hollow, offering little gratification and much distress.

Sensual pleasures are bitter as the venom of a snake, yet fools are infatuated by them. Sent to hell for a very long time, they are beaten and tortured.

Those who grow in wickedness ever lament in the underworld <j>due to their own bad deeds. They’re fools, unrestrained in body, mind, and speech.

Those witless, senseless fools, trapped by the origin of suffering, are ignorant, not understanding the noble truths when they are being taught.

Most people, mum, ignorant of the truths taught by the excellent Buddha, look forward to a state of life, longing for rebirth among the gods.

Yet even rebirth among the gods in an impermanent state of life is not eternal. But fools are not scared of being reborn time and again.

Four lower realms and two other realms may be gained somehow or other. But for those who end up in a lower realm, there is no way to go forth in the hells.

May you both grant me permission to go forth in the dispensation of him of the ten powers. Living at ease, I shall apply myself to giving up rebirth and death.

Why look forward to a new state of life in this useless, insubstantial body? Grant me permission, I shall go forth to make an end of craving for a new life.

A Buddha has arisen, the time has come, the unlucky moment has passed. As long as I live I’ll never betray my ethical precepts or my chaste path.”

Then Sumedhā said to her parents: “So long as I remain a layperson, I’ll refuse to eat any food, until I’ve fallen under the sway of death.”

Upset, her mother burst into tears, while her father, though grieved, tried his best to persuade her as she lay collapsed upstairs in the longhouse.

“Get up child, why do you grieve so? You’re already betrothed to be married! King Anīkaratta the handsome is in Vāraṇavatī: he is your betrothed.

You shall be the chief queen, wife of King Anīkaratta. Ethical precepts, the chaste path— going forth is hard to do, my child.

As a royal there is command, wealth, authority, and the happiness of possessions. Enjoy sensual pleasures while you’re still young! Let your wedding take place, my child!”

Then Sumedhā said to him: “Let this not come to pass! Existence is hollow! I shall either go forth or die, but I shall never marry.

Why cling to this rotting body so foul, stinking of fluids, a horrifying water-bag carcass, always oozing, full of filth?

Knowing it like I do, what’s the point? A carcass is vile, smeared with flesh and blood, food for birds and swarms of worms— why have we been given it?

Before long the body, bereft of consciousness, is carried out to the charnel ground, to be discarded like an old log by relatives in disgust.

When they’ve discarded it in the charnel ground, to be eaten by others, your own parents bathe themselves, disgusted; what then of people at large?

They’re attached to this hollow carcass, this mass of sinews and bone; this rotting body full of saliva, tears, feces, and pus.

If anyone were to dissect it, turning it inside out, the unbearable stench would disgust even their own mother.

Rationally examining the aggregates, elements, and sense fields as conditioned, rooted in birth, suffering— why would I wish for marriage?

Let three hundred sharp swords fall on my body everyday! Even if the slaughter lasted a hundred years it’d be worth it if it led to the end of suffering.

One who understands the Teacher’s words would put up with this slaughter: ‘Long for you is transmigration being killed time and time again.’

Among gods and humans, in the realm of animals or that of titans, among the ghosts or in the hells, endless killings are seen.

The hells are full of killing, for the corrupt who have fallen to the underworld. Even among the gods there is no shelter, for no happiness excels extinguishment.

Those who are committed to the dispensation of him of the ten powers attain extinguishment. Living at ease, they apply themselves to giving up rebirth and death.

On this very day, dad, I shall renounce: what’s to enjoy in hollow riches? I’m disillusioned with sensual pleasures, they’re like vomit, made like a palm stump.”

As she spoke thus to her father, Anīkaratta, to whom she was betrothed, approached from Vāraṇavatī at the time appointed for the marriage.

Then Sumedhā took up a knife, and cut off her hair, so black, thick, and soft. Shutting herself in the longhouse, she entered the first absorption.

And as she entered it there, Anīkaratta arrived at the city. Then in the longhouse, Sumedhā well developed the perception of impermanence.

As she investigated in meditation, Anīkaratta quickly climbed the stairs. His limbs adorned with gems <j>and honey-yellow gold, he begged Sumedhā with cupped palms:

“As a royal there is command, wealth, authority, and the happiness of possessions. Enjoy sensual pleasures while you’re still young! Sensual pleasures are hard to find in the world!

I’ve handed royalty to you— enjoy riches, give gifts! Don’t be sad; your parents are upset.”

Sumedhā, having no use for sensual pleasures, and having done away with delusion, <j>spoke right back: “Do not take pleasure in sensuality! See the danger in sensual pleasures!

Mandhātā, king of four continents, foremost in enjoying sensual pleasures, died unsated, his desires unfulfilled.

Were the seven jewels to rain from the sky all over the ten directions, there would be no sating of sensual pleasures: people die insatiable.

Like a butcher’s knife and chopping board, sensual pleasures are like a cobra’s head. They burn like a fire-brand, they resemble a skeleton.

Sensual pleasures are impermanent and unstable, they’re full of suffering, a terrible poison; like a hot iron ball, the root of gloom, their fruit is pain.

Sensual pleasures are like fruits of a tree, like scraps of meat, painful, they trick you like a dream; sensual pleasures are like borrowed goods.

Sensual pleasures are like swords and spears; a disease, a boil, gloom and trouble. Like a pit of glowing coals, the root of gloom, fear and slaughter.

Thus sensual pleasures have been explained to be obstructions, so full of suffering. Please leave! As for me, I have no trust in any state of life.

What can someone else do for me when their own head is burning? When stalked by old age and death, you should strive to destroy them.”

She opened the door and saw her parents with Anīkaratta, sitting crying on the floor. And so she said this:

“Transmigration is long for fools, crying again and again <j>at that with no known beginning— the death of a father, the killing of a brother or of themselves.

Remember the ocean of tears, of milk, of blood— transmigration with no known beginning. Remember the bones piled up by beings transmigrating.

Remember the four oceans compared with tears, milk, and blood. Remember bones piled up high as Mount Vepulla in the course of a single eon.

Transmigration with no known beginning is compared to this broad Black Plum Tree Land; if divided into lumps the size of jujube seeds, they’d still be fewer than his mother’s mothers.

Remember the grass, sticks, and leaves, compare that with no known beginning: if split into chips four inches in size, they’d still be fewer than his father’s fathers.

Remember the one-eyed turtle <j>and the yoke with a hole blown in the ocean from east to west— sticking the head in the hole is a metaphor for gaining a human birth.

Remember the form of this unlucky body, insubstantial as a lump of foam. See the aggregates as impermanent, remember the hells so full of distress.

Remember those swelling the charnel grounds again and again in life after life. Remember the danger of gharials! Remember the four truths!

When freedom from death is there to be found, why would you drink the five bitter poisons? For all erotic delights are so much more bitter than them.

When freedom from death is there to be found, why would you burn for sensual pleasures? For all erotic delights are burning, boiling, bubbling, seething.

When there is freedom from enmity, why would you want your enemy, sensual pleasures? Many enemies take a share of your sensual pleasures: kings, fire, robbers, flood, and unloved heirs.

When liberation is there to be found, what good are sensual pleasures that kill and bind? For though unwilling, <j>when sensual pleasures are there, they are subject to the pain of killing and binding.

As a blazing grass torch burns one who grasps it without letting go, sensual pleasures are like a grass torch, burning those who do not let go.

Don’t give up abundant happiness for the trivial joys of sensual pleasure. Don’t fret later, like a catfish on a hook.

Deliberately control yourself <j>among sensual pleasures! You’re like a hound fixed to a chain: sensual pleasures will surely devour you as hungry corpse-workers would a hound.

Harnessed to sensual pleasure, you undergo endless pain, along with much mental anguish: relinquish sensual pleasures, they don’t last!

When the unaging is there to be found, what good are sensual pleasures in which is old age? All rebirths everywhere are bonded to death and sickness.

This is freedom from old age, freedom from death! This is freedom from old age and death, the sorrowless state! Free of enmity, unconstricted, faultless, fearless, without tribulations.

This freedom from death has been realized by many; even today it can be obtained by those who rationally apply themselves; but it’s impossible if you don’t try.”

So said Sumedhā, lacking delight in conditioned things. Soothing Anīkaratta, Sumedhā cast her hair on the ground.

Standing up, Anīkaratta raised his cupped palms to her father and begged: “Let go of Sumedhā, so that she may go forth! She will see the truth of liberation.”

Released by her mother and father, she went forth, afraid of grief and fear. While still a trainee nun <j>she realized the six direct knowledges, along with the highest fruit.

The extinguishment of the princess was incredible and amazing; on her deathbed, she declared her several past lives.

“In the time of the Buddha Koṇāgamana, we three friends gave the gift of a newly-built dwelling in the Saṅgha’s monastery.

Ten times, a hundred times, a thousand times, ten thousand times, we were reborn among the gods, let alone among humans.

We were mighty among the gods, let alone among humans! I was queen to a king with the seven treasures— I was the treasure of a wife.

That was the cause, that the origin, that the root, that was the acceptance of the dispensation; that first meeting culminated in extinguishment for one delighting in the teaching.

So say those who have faith in the words of the one unrivaled in wisdom. They’re disillusioned with any state of life, and being disillusioned they become dispassionate.” That is how these verses were recited by the senior nun Sumedhā. The Verses of the Senior Nuns are finished.