{"collection":"Buddhism","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/bud/thig/thig13.htm","path":"bud/thig/thig13.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/bud/thig/thig13.htm","text":"Black was my hair\n-- the color of bees --\n& curled at the tips;\nwith age, it looked like coarse hemp.\nThe truth of the Truth-speaker's words\ndoesn't change.\nFragrant, like a perfumed basket\nfilled with flowers: my coiffure.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 With age it smelled musty,\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 like animal fur.\nThe truth of the Truth-speaker's words\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 doesn't change.\nThick & lush, like a well-tended grove,\nmade splendid, the tips elaborate\nwith comb & pin.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 With age, it grew thin\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 & bare here & there.\nThe truth of the Truth-speaker's words\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 doesn't change.\nAdorned with gold & delicate pins,\nit was splendid, ornamented with braids.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Now, with age,\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 that head has gone bald.\nThe truth of the Truth-speaker's words\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 doesn't change.\nCurved, as if well-drawn by an artist,\nmy brows were once splendid.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 With age, they droop down in folds.\nThe truth of the Truth-speaker's words\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 doesn't change.\nRadiant, brilliant like jewels,\nmy eyes: elongated, black -- deep black.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 With age, they're no longer splendid.\nThe truth of the Truth-speaker's words\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 doesn't change.\nLike a delicate peak, my nose\nwas splendid in the prime of my youth.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 With age, it's like a long pepper.\nThe truth of the Truth-speaker's words\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 doesn't change.\nLike bracelets -- well-fashioned, well-finished -- \nmy ears were once splendid.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 With age, they droop down in folds.\nThe truth of the Truth-speaker's words\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 doesn't change.\nLike plaintain buds in their color,\nmy teeth were once splendid.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 With age, they're broken & yellowed.\nThe truth of the Truth-speaker's words\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 doesn't change.\nLike that of a cuckoo in the dense jungle,\nflitting through deep forest thickets:\nsweet was the tone of my voice.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 With age, it cracks here & there.\nThe truth of the Truth-speaker's words\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 doesn't change.\nSmooth -- like a conch shell well-polished -- \nmy neck was once splendid.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 With age, it's broken down, bent.\nThe truth of the Truth-speaker's words\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 doesn't change.\nLike rounded door-bars -- both of them -- \nmy arms were once splendid.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 With age, they're like dried up patali trees.\nThe truth of the Truth-speaker's words\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 doesn't change.\nAdorned with gold & delicate rings,\nmy hands were once splendid.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 With age, they're like onions & tubers.\nThe truth of the Truth-speaker's words\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 doesn't change.\nSwelling, round, firm, & high,\nboth my breasts were once splendid.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 In the drought of old age, they dangle\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 like empty old water bags.\nThe truth of the Truth-speaker's words\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 doesn't change.\nLike a sheet of gold, well-burnished,\nmy body was splendid.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Now it's covered with very fine wrinkles.\nThe truth of the Truth-speaker's words\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 doesn't change.\nSmooth in their lines, like an elephant's trunk,\nboth my thighs were once splendid.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 With age, they're like knotted bamboo.\nThe truth of the Truth-speaker's words\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 doesn't change.\nAdorned with gold & delicate anklets,\nmy calves were once splendid.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 With age, they're like sesame sticks.\nThe truth of the Truth-speaker's words\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 doesn't change.\nAs if they were stuffed with soft cotton,\nboth my feet were once splendid.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 With age, they're shriveled & cracked.\nThe truth of the Truth-speaker's words\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 doesn't change.\nSuch was this physical heap,\nnow: decrepit, the home of pains, many pains.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 A house with its plaster all fallen off.\nThe truth of the Truth-speaker's words\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 doesn't change.","title":"Therigatha XIII","type":"page"}