[1077]
Seeing these children, sweet-voiced and speaking so dearly,
seated in a thicket of the forest, you will not remember the kingdom.
Seeing these children, sweet-voiced and speaking so dearly,
playing in a thicket of the forest, you will not remember the kingdom.
Seeing these children, sweet-voiced and speaking so dearly,
in the delightful hermitage, you will not remember the kingdom.
Seeing these children, sweet-voiced and speaking so dearly,
playing in the pleasant hermitage, you will not remember the kingdom.
Seeing these children, wearing garlands and adorned,
in the delightful hermitage, you will not remember the kingdom.
Seeing these children, wearing garlands and adorned,
playing in the pleasant hermitage, you will not remember the kingdom.
When you see the children dancing, wearing their garlands,
in the delightful hermitage, you will not remember the kingdom.
When you see the children dancing, wearing their garlands,
playing in the pleasant hermitage, you will not remember the kingdom.
When you see a mātaṅga elephant, a tusker of sixty years,
wandering alone in the forest, you will not remember the kingdom.
When you see a mātaṅga elephant, a tusker of sixty years,
wandering at evening and at morning, you will not remember the kingdom.
When the mātaṅga elephant, the tusker of sixty years,
walking at the head of the herd of cow-elephants,
sounds forth his trumpeting call —
then, hearing him trumpet, you will not remember the kingdom.
When you see on either side the open forest glades, the giver of every desire,
in a forest thronged with beasts of prey, you will not remember the kingdom.
When you have seen a deer come at evening, wearing its fivefold garland,
and the kimpurisas dancing, you will not remember the kingdom.
When you hear the roar of the river flowing on its way,
and the singing of the kimpurisas, you will not remember the kingdom.
When you hear the cry of the hooting owl
that haunts the mountain clefts, you will not remember the kingdom.
When you hear in the forest the cries of the beasts of prey —
of the lion and the tiger, the rhinoceros and the wild ox —
you will not remember the kingdom.
When you see a peacock dancing, surrounded by peahens,
decked with his tail-plumes, perched upon the crest,
you will not remember the kingdom.
When you see a peacock dancing, surrounded by peahens,
the egg-born bird with variegated plumes, you will not remember the kingdom.
When you see a peacock dancing, surrounded by peahens,
blue-necked and crested, you will not remember the kingdom.
When you see in winter the trees, sprung from the earth, in flower,
wafting their fragrance abroad, you will not remember the kingdom.
When in the winter month you see the earth grown green,
covered over with indagopaka insects, you will not remember the kingdom.
When you see in winter the trees, sprung from the earth, in flower —
the kuṭaja and the bimbajāla, the lodda and the padmaka in bloom —
wafting their fragrance abroad, you will not remember the kingdom.
When in the winter month you see the forest in flower,
and the lotuses shedding their blossoms, you will not remember the kingdom.
The Himavanta section is concluded.
English translation from the Pali (Siam Raṭṭha edition) — under review, not for citation.