Psalms of the Brethren CCLIV: Bhaddiya, son of Kali of the Godhas

What delicate gear was mine to wear,
When riding on my elephants,
What dainty fare was mine to eat,
Prepared by art from rice and flesh I

To-day a happy winner, stanch,
Pleased with what scraps his bowl is filled,
In contemplation, grasping nought,
Lives Bhaddiya, the Godha’s son.

In cast-off rags attired, and stanch,
Pleased with what scraps his bowl is filled,
In contemplation, grasping nought,
Lives Bhaddiya, the Godha’s son.

Seeking his daily alms and stanch,
Pleased with what scraps, etc.

In triple robe, no more, and stanch, Pleased, etc.

Taking each house in turn, and stanch, Pleased, etc.

With one good meal a day, and stanch, Pleased, etc.

Eating from bowl alone and stanch,
Pleased, etc.

Refusing aftermeals and stanch,
Pleased, etc.

Haunting the lonely woods and stanch, Pleased, etc.

Sheltered by shade of tree and stanch, Pleased, etc.

’Neath open sky, unsheltered, stanch, Pleased, etc.

Haunting the charnel-fields and stanch, Pleased, etc.

Seated no matter where and stanch,
Pleased, etc.

Resting in sitting posture, stanch,
Pleased, etc.

Simple and few his wants and stanch, Pleased, etc.

With mind content, serene, and stanch, Pleased, etc.

Secluded, much alone and stanch,
Pleased, etc.

Detached, aloof [from men] and stanch, Pleased, etc.

With surging energy and stanch,
Pleased with what scraps his bowl is filled,
In contemplation, grasping nought,
Lives Bhaddiya, the Godha’s son.

Renouncing costly vessels wrought
In gold and lac, this earthen bowl
I grasped, and thus the second time
Anointment’s consecration won.

Guarded by lofty circling walls,
And mighty gates with watchtowers high
And men-at-arms with sword in hand,
So was I wont in dread to dwell.

To-day a happy winner, see,
At ease, all fear and fright removed,
In forest meditation plunged
Dwells Bhaddiya the Godha s son.

Firm planted on the moral code,
In clarity and insight trained,
In due succession have I won
Release with every fetter gone!