[399]
When shall I dwell in mountain caves,
alone, without a companion,
seeing with insight all existence (bhava) as impermanent?
This wish of mine — when indeed shall it be?
When shall I, a sage wearing the patchwork cloth,
clad in the ochre robe, with no sense of mine, without longing,
having abandoned lust and hatred and likewise delusion,
dwell at ease, gone to the great forest?
When, contemplating with insight this impermanent body,
a nest of slaughter and disease, harried by the King of Death,
shall I dwell rid of fear,
alone in the forest? When indeed shall that come to be?
When shall I take up the sharp sword made of wisdom (paññā)
and cut down the creeper of craving (taṇhā) —
begetter of fear, bringer of suffering (dukkha), twining about things manifold —
and so dwell? When shall that too come to be?
When indeed shall I seize the seers' blade,
made of wisdom, of blazing might,
and swiftly break Māra together with his army
upon the lion's seat? When indeed shall that come to be?
When indeed shall I be seen in the assemblies of the good
as one given to striving, by those who esteem the Dhamma —
the stable ones, who see things as they really are,
whose faculties are conquered? When indeed shall that come to be?
When indeed will lassitude, hunger and thirst,
wind and heat, insects and creeping things,
not oppress me in the mountain fastness
as I pursue my own welfare? When indeed shall that come to be?
When indeed, with mind composed and mindful (satimā),
shall I reach by wisdom
that which was known by the Great Seer —
the four truths, so very hard to see? When indeed shall that come to be?
When, yoked to calm (samatha), shall I see with wisdom
as burning the measureless forms and sounds,
odours, tastes, tangibles, and dhammas?
When shall this be mine?
When indeed, addressed with abusive speech,
shall I not be downcast on that account,
and again, when praised, not be elated
on that account? When shall this be mine?
When shall I weigh as all the same
wood and grass and creepers, and these aggregates (khandha) of mine,
and the measureless dhammas,
internal and external alike? When shall this be mine?
When will the rain-cloud of the wet season
drench me with fresh water, robe and all, in the forest,
as I walk upon the path trodden by the seers?
When indeed shall that come to be?
When, having heard in the mountain grotto the cry
of the crested peacock, that twice-born bird of the forest,
shall I rise up and turn my thought
to the attainment of the deathless? When indeed shall that come to be?
When indeed shall I cross by psychic power (iddhi), unhindered,
the Gaṅgā, the Yamunā, the Sarassatī,
and the Mare's Mouth (vaḷavāmukha) chasm plunged into the netherworld,
that thing of terror? When indeed shall that come to be?
When, like an elephant that ranges in battle,
shall I shatter desire for the strands of sensual pleasure (kāmaguṇa),
shunning every sign of the beautiful,
devoted to jhāna? When indeed shall that come to be?
When shall I be glad, having attained
the teaching of the Great Seer,
as a poor man pressed by debt, harassed by creditors,
is glad on finding a treasure? When indeed shall that come to be?
For many years you begged me:
"Enough now for you of dwelling in a house!"
Now that I have gone forth,
for what reason, mind (citta), do you not urge me on?
Was I not entreated by you, mind:
"On the mountainside the birds of bright plumage,
greeting with their cries the thunder, great Inda's roar,
will delight you as you meditate in the forest"?
Friends and dear ones and kinsmen in the family,
delight in play and the strands of sensual pleasure in the world —
all this I abandoned and came to this;
and even so, mind, you are not content with me.
This concerns me alone; it is no other's:
when the hour comes to don one's armour, what use is lamenting?
Seeing that all this is unstable,
I went forth, seeking the deathless state.
The speaker of well-spoken words, supreme among two-footed beings,
the great physician, the charioteer of persons to be tamed, declared:
"The mind is unstable, like a monkey,
exceedingly hard to restrain by one not free of lust."
For sensual pleasures are varied, sweet, delightful;
to them the unknowing worldlings (puthujjana) cling;
seeking renewed existence, it is suffering they seek;
led on by the mind, they are consigned to hell.
"Dwelling in the grove that resounds with peacocks and herons,
attended by leopards and tigers,
abandon longing for the body — do not hold back!"
— so indeed, mind, you urged me on in days past.
"Develop the jhānas and the faculties,
the powers, the development of the factors of awakening (bojjhaṅga) and of concentration (samādhi),
and touch the three true knowledges (vijjā) in the Buddha's teaching!"
— so indeed, mind, you urged me on in days past.
"Develop the path (magga) for the attainment of the deathless —
the path leading out, plunging into the destruction of all suffering,
eightfold, the cleanser of all defilements!"
— so indeed, mind, you urged me on in days past.
"Contemplate the aggregates thoroughly as suffering,
and abandon that from which suffering originates;
make an end of suffering right here!"
— so indeed, mind, you urged me on in days past.
"See with insight, thoroughly: impermanent, suffering,
empty, not-self, and misery and murder;
restrain the wanderings of your mind!"
— so indeed, mind, you urged me on in days past.
"Shaven, unsightly, exposed to reviling,
beg among the families, bowl in hand like one holding a skull-cup;
apply yourself to the word of the Teacher, the Great Seer!"
— so indeed, mind, you urged me on in days past.
"Walk well-restrained in self along the streets,
with mind unentangled among families and sensual pleasures,
like the full moon on a clear night!"
— so indeed, mind, you urged me on in days past.
"Be a forest-dweller and an almsfood-eater,
a charnel-ground dweller and a rag-robe wearer,
one who never lies down, ever delighting in the ascetic practices (dhuta)!"
— so indeed, mind, you urged me on in days past.
As one who, having planted trees in desire of their fruit,
should wish to cut down that very tree at the root —
such, mind, is the likeness of what you do,
in that you urge me toward the impermanent and unstable.
O formless one, far-traveller, wanderer alone!
I shall not do your bidding now;
for sensual pleasures are suffering, bitter, a great peril:
I shall fare with my mind set on Nibbāna alone.
Not from misfortune nor from shamelessness,
not from caprice of mind, nor because of banishment,
nor for the sake of livelihood did I go forth;
and a promise, mind, was made by me to you.
"Fewness of wishes, the abandoning of denigration,
the stilling of suffering — these are praised by good men"
— so indeed, mind, you urged me then;
but now you go back to your old ways.
Having become dispassionate toward craving, toward the dear and the undear —
beautiful forms, pleasant feelings,
and the agreeable strands of sensual pleasure have been vomited forth:
I cannot venture to swallow back what has been vomited.
Everywhere, mind, your word was done by me;
through many births I never provoked you;
yet this coming-to-be within is your gratitude! —
long have I wandered on in suffering of your making.
It is you alone, mind, who make us a brahmin;
you make us a khattiya, a royal seer;
at one time we become vessas and suddas;
and godhood too comes only of your doing.
For your sake alone we become asuras;
rooted in you we become beings of hell;
then at one time animals also;
and the state of petas too comes only of your doing.
Surely now you shall not betray me again and again,
moment upon moment, hard to withstand as a rutting elephant;
you beguile me as though I were a madman —
and in what, mind, have I ever failed you?
Formerly this mind went wandering
where it wished, as it desired, as it pleased;
today I shall restrain it thoroughly,
as the holder of the hook restrains an elephant in rut.
And my Teacher has determined this world for me
as impermanent, as unstable, as without essence.
Plunge, mind, into the Victor's teaching!
Carry me across the great flood, so hard to cross!
This, mind, is not for you as it was of old:
I am not one to turn back under your sway.
I have gone forth in the teaching of the Great Seer;
those like me do not take ruin upon themselves.
Mountains, oceans, rivers, the earth,
the four quarters, the intermediate points, the nadir —
all are impermanent; the three realms of existence are oppressed.
Where can you go, mind, to delight in happiness?
Fie, fie! What more, mind, will you do to me?
No longer, mind, am I one to bend to your sway.
Never would one touch a bag with mouths at both ends;
a curse upon it, brim-full, coursing with nine streams!
On mountain slope and crest, manifestly fair,
haunted and plunged into by boar and antelope,
in groves sprinkled with the fresh water of the rains —
there, gone to your cave-home, you will delight.
Birds of lovely blue necks, lovely crests,
lovely tail-plumes, with coverts of many-coloured feathers,
greeting with sweet cries the thunder's roar —
they will delight you as you meditate in the forest.
When the sky-god has rained, when the grass stands four fingers high
and the grove is in full flower like a cloud,
I shall lie like a tree between the mountains,
and it will be soft to me as cotton-down.
Yet I shall act even as a master does:
let whatever is obtained be enough for me;
and this and that I shall do, untiring,
as one well kneads a cat-skin bag.
Yet I shall act even as a master does:
let whatever is obtained be enough for me;
by energy (vīriya) I shall bring you under my control,
as a skilled holder of the hook subdues a rutting elephant.
With you well-tamed and steadied —
as a trainer with a straight-running horse —
I am able to enter upon the blissful path,
ever frequented by those who guard the mind.
I shall bind you by force to the meditation object,
as an elephant to a post with a firm rope;
well guarded by me, well developed by mindfulness (sati),
you shall become independent of all existences.
Having cut off with wisdom what follows the wrong path,
having restrained it by application and settled it upon the path,
having seen the origin (samudaya), the passing away, and the arising,
you shall be an heir of the Best of Speakers.
Established under the sway of the four perversions (vipallāsa),
mind, you led me round and round like a village boy;
is it not the compassionate Great Sage,
the cutter of fetters (saṃyojana) and bonds, whom you now attend?
As a deer ranging free in the bright dappled grove
enters the delightful mountain garlanded with cloud,
so there upon that unthronged mountain you will delight;
without doubt, mind, you shall be worsted.
Those men and those women who live
by your desire and under your sway — whatever pleasure they experience —
unknowing, gone under Māra's control,
delighting in existence, they, mind, are servants of yours.
The Elder Tālapuṭa.
Summary:
In the Nipāta of the Fifties there is one alone, Tālapuṭa the pure;
the verses therein are fifty, and five more besides.
The Nipāta of the Fifties is concluded.
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The Theragāthā: the Nipāta of the Sixties.
English translation from the Pali (Siam Raṭṭha edition) — under review, not for citation.