Note: Unless otherwise indicated, these suttas were translated from the Pali by Thanissaro Bhikkhu.
My hut is roofed, comfortable,
free of drafts;
my mind, well-centered,
set free.
I remain ardent.
So, rain-deva.
Go ahead & rain.
Calmed, restrained,
giving counsel unruffled,
he lifts off evil states of mind --
as the breeze,
a leaf from a tree.
See this:
the discernment
of the Tathagatas,
like a fire ablaze in the night,
giving light, giving eyes,
to those who come,
subduing their doubt.
[Related reading: Ud V.7 (Kankharevata = Revata the Doubter).]
Who scatters the troops
of the King of Death --
as a great flood,
a very weak bridge made of reeds --
is victorious,
for his fears are dispersed.
He's tamed,
unbound,
steadfast in himself.
My preceptor said to me:
Let's go from here, Sivaka.
My body stays in the village,
my mind has gone to the wilds.
Even though I'm lying down,
I go.
There's no tying down
one who knows.
Just as a fine thoroughbred steed,
with swishing tail & mane
runs with next-to-no effort,
so my days & nights
run with next-to-no effort
now that I've gained a happiness
not of the flesh.
Peacocks,
crested, blue, with gorgeous necks,
cry out in Karamvi,
thrilled by the cold wind.
They awaken the sleeper
to meditate.
Harita,
raise yourself up-
right
and, straightening your mind
-- like a fletcher, an arrow --
shatter ignorance
to bits.
I'll make a trade:
aging for the Ageless,
burning for the Unbound:
the highest peace,
the unexcelled rest
from the yoke.
Lightning lands on the cleft
between Vebhara & Pandava,
but,
having gone to the cleft in the mountains,
he's absorbed in jhana -- the son
of the one without compare,
the one who is Such.
So freed! So freed!
So thoroughly freed am I
from three crooked things:
my sickles, my shovels, my plows.
Even if they were here,
right here,
I'd be done with them,
done.
Meditate, Sumangala.
Meditate, Sumangala.
Sumangala, stay heedful.
Even with all the whistles & whistling,
the calls of the birds,
this, my mind, doesn't waver,
for my delight is in
oneness.
The earth's sprinkled
with rain, wind
is blowing, lightning
wanders the sky,
but my thoughts are stilled,
well-centered
my mind.
Who's in the hut?
A monk's in the hut --
free from passion,
with well-centered mind.
Know this, my friend:
The hut you built
wasn't wasted.
Exalted in mind & heedful:
a sage trained in sagacity's ways.
He has no sorrows, one who is Such,[1]
calmed & ever mindful.
1. Tadi: "Such," an adjective to describe one who has attained the goal. It indicates that the person's state is indefinable but not subject to change or influences of any sort. [Go back]
Asleep the whole night,
delighting in company by day:
when, when
will the fool
bring suffering & stress
to an end?
Sensual pleasures are stressful,
Eraka.
Sensual pleasures aren't ease.
Whoever loves sensual pleasures
loves stress, Eraka.
Whoever doesn't,
doesn't love stress.
I'm blind,
my eyes are destroyed.
I've stumbled
on a wilderness track.
Even
if I must crawl,
I'll go on,
but not with an evil companion.
How light my body!
Touched by abundant
rapture & bliss,
-- like a cotton tuft
borne on the breeze --
it seems to be floating
-- my body!
Going forth is hard;
houses are hard places to live;
the Dhamma is deep;
wealth, hard to obtain;
it's hard to keep going
with whatever we get:
so it's right that we ponder
continually
continual
inconstancy.
With clear waters &
massive boulders,
frequented by monkeys &
deer,
covered with moss &
water weeds,
those rocky crags refresh me.
As if sent by a curse,
it drops on us --
aging.
The body seems other,
though it's still the same one.
I'm still here
& have never been absent from it,
but I remember myself
as if somebody else's.
The five aggregates,
having been comprehended,
stand with their root
cut through.
For me
the ending of stress
is reached;
the ending of fermentations,
attained.