Psalms of the Brethren CCXLVIII: Adhimutta

Of all the lot whom we, for god or pelf,
Have smitten in our time, there’s not been one
But hath shown fear, trembled and clamoured sore.

But thou, who’rt not affrighted, nay, whose face
Shows brighter bloom, why dost thou not lament,
When such a fearsome peril threatens thee?

No misery of mind, O chief, is there
For him who hath no wants. All fear have I
Transcended, since the Fetters were destroyed.

By death of that which leadeth to rebirth,
The truths are seen e’en as they really are,
And hence in death there lies no fear for me,
Tis as a laying down the load I bore.

Well have I lived the holy life, and well
Made progress in the Ariyan Path; no fear
There lies in death, who puts an end to ills.

Void of delight the forms of birth appear,
Like drinking poison one has thrown away.

He who hath passed beyond, from grasping free,
Whose task is done, sane and immune, is glad,
Not sorry, when the term of lives is reached,
As one who from the slaughter-house escapes.

He who the ideal order hath attained,
All the world over seeking nought to own,
As one who from a burning house escapes,
When death is drawing nigh he grieveth not.

All things soever which have come to be,
And all rebirth wherever it is got,
Nowhere therein is personal design: —
So hath the mighty Sage declared to us.

‘And sweet is death who puts an end to pain.’
And he Who knows that things are even so,
As by the Buddha it is taught, no more
Would he take hold of any form of birth
Than he would grasp a red-hot iron ball.

Comes not to me the thought: ‘Tis I have been,’
Nor comes the thought: ‘What shall I next become?’
Thoughts, deeds and words are no persisting [soul],
Therefore what ground for lamentations here?

To him who seeth, as it really is,
The pure and simple causal rise of things,
The pure and simple sequence of our acts: —
To such an one can come no fear, O chief.

That all this world is like the forest grass
And brushwood [no man’s property]: — when one
By wisdom seeth this, finds naught that’s ‘Mine,’
Thinking: ‘’tis not for me,’ he grieveth not.

This body irketh me; no seeker I
To live. This mortal frame will broken be,
And ne’er another from it be reborn.

Your business with my body, come, that do
E’en as ye will; and not on that account
Will hatred or affection rise in me.

The young men marvelled at his words, and thrilled
With awe, casting away their knives they said:

What are your honour’s practices, or who
Is teacher to you? Of whose Ordinance
A member, have you gained this grieflessness?

My teacher is the Conqueror knowing all
And seeing all, the Master infinite
In pity, all the world’s Physician, He.

And He it is by whom these truths are taught,
Norm to Nibbana leading, unsurpassed.
Within His Rule I’ve won this grieflessness.

Now when the robbers heard the well-spoke utterance of the sage,
They laid aside their knives, their arms, and some forsook that trade,
And some besought that they might leave the world for holy life.

They leaving thus, within the Buddha’s welcome Rule grew wise,
The seven Factors practising and eke the Forces live,
Trained in the Powers, with hearts elate, happy they reached the Goal.