[1186] Here in this very spot my little children, smeared with dust,
would stand to welcome me, as young calves their mother.
Here in this very spot my little children, smeared with dust,
would stand to welcome me, like swans upon a marshy pool.
Here in this very spot my little children, smeared with dust,
would stand to welcome me, not far from the hermitage.
Like deer with ears pricked up they would dash to me from every side;
joyous and delighted, they would quiver as they frisked about.
Today I do not see those children, Jāli and Kaṇhājinā, both.
As a she-goat leaves her kid, as a doe her fawn,
as a bird flies free from its cage,
I went out and left my children behind,
like a lioness greedy for prey.
Today I do not see those children, Jāli and Kaṇhājinā, both.
Here is their trampled track, like that of elephants on a mountain,
and little heaps lie scattered round about, not far from the hermitage.
Today I do not see those children, Jāli and Kaṇhājinā, both.
Besprinkled with sand, my little children, smeared with dust,
would run all around me on every side — those children I do not see.
They who before would come out to welcome me as I came from afar out of the forest —
today I do not see those children, Jāli and Kaṇhājinā, both.
Like the kids of a she-goat, like the fawns of a doe running out to meet their mother,
they would look out for me from afar — those children I do not see.
And here lies fallen their plaything, a yellow bael fruit.
Today I do not see those children, Jāli and Kaṇhājinā, both.
My breasts are full, and my chest is bursting.
Today I do not see those children, Jāli and Kaṇhājinā, both.
Who now will search in my lap? Who now will hang upon my breast?
Today I do not see those children, Jāli and Kaṇhājinā, both.
At evening time my little children, smeared with dust,
would tumble about in this lap of mine — those children I do not see.
This same hermitage formerly appeared to me like a festival gathering;
today, as I do not see those children, the hermitage seems to whirl around.
What is this? The hermitage appears to me all silent;
even the ravens do not cry out. Surely my children are dead!
What is this? The hermitage appears to me all silent;
even the birds do not cry out. Surely my children are dead!
English translation from the Pali (Siam Raṭṭha edition) — under review, not for citation.