Therīgāthā (Psalms of the Sisters)

“Don’t be mad at me, great hero! Don’t be mad at me, great sage! If you’re mired in anger you can’t stay pure, let alone be fervent.”

“I’m going to leave Nālā! For who’d stay here at Nālā! With their figures, the women trap ascetics who live righteously.”

“Please, Kāḷa, come back to me. Enjoy pleasures like you did before. I’ll be under your control, along with any relatives I have.”

“Cāpā, if even a quarter of what you say were true, it would be a splendid thing for a man in love with you!”

“Kāḷa, I am like a sprouting iris flowering on a mountain top, like a blossoming pomegranate, like a patala tree on an isle;

my limbs are anointed with yellow sandalwood, and I wear the finest Kāsi cloth: when I am so very beautiful, how can you abandon me and leave?”

“You’re like a fowler who wants to catch a bird; but you won’t trap me with your costumed form.”

“But this child, my fruit, was begotten by you, Kāḷa. When I have this child, how can you abandon me and leave?”

“The wise give up children, family, and wealth. Great heroes go forth like elephants breaking their bonds.”

“Now, this son of yours: I’ll strike him to the ground right here, with a stick or with a knife! Grieving your son, you will not leave.”

“Even if you feed our son to jackals and dogs, I’d never return again, you bitch, not even for the child’s sake.”

“Well then, sir, tell me, where will you go, Kāḷa? To what village or town, city or capital?”

“Last time we had followers, we weren’t ascetics, we just thought we were. We wandered from village to village, to cities and capitals.

But now the Blessed One, the Buddha, back on the bank of the Nerañjara River, teaches the Dhamma so that living creatures may abandon all suffering. I shall go to his presence, he shall be my Teacher.”

“Now please convey my respects to the supreme protector of the world. Circling him to your right, dedicate my religious donation.”

“This is the proper thing to do, just as you have said to me. I’ll convey your respects to the supreme protector of the world. Circling him to my right, I’ll dedicate your religious donation.”

Then Kāḷa set out back to the bank of the Nerañjara River. He saw the Awakened One teaching the state free of death:

suffering, suffering’s origin, suffering’s transcendence, and the noble eightfold path that leads to the stilling of suffering.

He paid homage at his feet, circling him to his right, and conveyed Cāpā’s dedication; then he went forth to homelessness. He attained the three knowledges, and fulfilled the Buddha’s instructions.

“Before, worthy lady, when feeding your departed children, you’d be racked with despair all day and all night.

Today, brahmin lady, you have fed all seven children. Vāseṭṭhī, how do you explain why you’re not so filled with despair?”

“Many hundreds of children, hundreds of family circles, both mine and yours, brahmin, have been fed in the past.

Having known the escape from rebirth and death I neither grieve nor lament, nor do I despair.”

“Wow, Vaseṭṭhī, the words you speak really are amazing! Whose teaching did you understand that you say these things?”

“Brahmin, the Awakened One back at the city of Mithilā, teaches the Dhamma so that living creatures may abandon all suffering.

After hearing the perfected one’s teaching, brahmin, which is free of all attachments, having understood the true teaching there, I’ve cast aside grief for children.”

“I too shall go to the city of Mithilā. Hopefully the Buddha may release me from all suffering.”

The brahmin saw the Buddha, liberated, free of attachments. He taught him the Dhamma, the sage gone beyond suffering:

suffering, suffering’s origin, suffering’s transcendence, and the noble eightfold path that leads to the stilling of suffering.

Having understood the true teaching there, he chose to go forth. Three days later Sujāta realized the three knowledges.

“Please, charioteer, go; take back this carriage. Bidding my brahmin lady good health, say: ‘The brahmin has now gone forth. After three days, Sujāta realized the three knowledges.’”

Then taking the carriage, along with a thousand coins, the charioteer bade the brahmin lady good health, and said: “The brahmin has now gone forth. After three days, Sujāta realized the three knowledges.”

Hearing that the brahmin had the three knowledges, <j>the lady replied: “I present to you this horse and carriage, O charioteer, along with 1000 coins, and a full bowl as a gift.”

“Keep the horse and carriage, lady, along with the thousand coins. I too shall go forth in his presence, the one of such outstanding wisdom.”

“Elephants, cattle, jeweled earrings, such opulent domestic worth: having given it up, your father went forth, enjoy these riches Sundarī, you are the family heir.”

“Elephants, cattle, jeweled earrings, such delightful domestic worth: having given it up, my father went forth, racked by grief for his son. I too shall go forth, racked by grief for my brother.”

“Sundarī, may the wish you desire come true. Leftovers as gleanings, and cast-off rags as robes— make do with these, free of defilements regarding the next life.”

“Ma’am, while I am still a trainee nun, my clairvoyance is clarified; I know my past lives, the places I used to live.

Relying on a fine lady like you, a senior nun who graces the Saṅgha, I’ve attained the three knowledges, and fulfilled the Buddha’s instructions.

Give me permission ma’am, I wish to go to Sāvatthī, where I shall roar my lion’s roar before the best of Buddhas.”

“Sundarī, see the Teacher! Snow gold in tint, <j>with sun-golden skin; tamer of the untamed, the Awakened One who fears nothing <j>from any quarter.”

“See Sundarī coming, liberated, free of attachments. desireless, detached, her task completed, without defilements.”

“Having set forth from Varanasi and come to your presence, great hero, your disciple Sundarī bows at your feet.

You are the Buddha, you are the Teacher, I am your bosom daughter, brahmin, born of your mouth. I’ve completed the task <j>and am free of defilements.”

“Then welcome, good lady, you’re by no means unwelcome. For this is how the tamed come bowing at the Teacher’s feet; desireless, detached, the task completed, without defilements.”

“I was so young, my clothes so fresh, at that time I heard the teaching. Being diligent, I comprehended the truth;

and then I became profoundly dispassionate toward all sensual pleasures. Seeing fear in substantial reality, I longed for renunciation.

Giving up my family circle, bonded servants and workers, and my flourishing village fields, so delightful and pleasant,

I went forth; all that is no small wealth. Now that I’ve renounced in faith like this, in the true teaching so well proclaimed,

since I desire to have nothing, it would not be appropriate to take back gold and currency, having already got rid of them.

Currency or gold doesn’t lead to peace and awakening. It doesn’t befit an ascetic; it’s not the wealth of the noble ones;

it’s greed and vanity, confusion and growing decadence, dubious and troublesome— there is nothing lasting there.

Depraved and heedless, unenlightened folk, their hearts corrupt, fight each other, creating conflict.

Killing, caging, misery, loss, grief, and lamentation; those sunk in sensual pleasures see many disastrous things.

My family, why do you urge me on to pleasures, as if you were my enemies? You know I’ve gone forth, seeing fear in sensual pleasures.

It’s not due to gold, coined or uncoined, that defilements come to an end. Sensual pleasures are enemies and killers, hostile forces that bind you to thorns.

My family, why do you urge me on to pleasures, as if you were my enemies? You know I’ve gone forth, shaven, wrapped in my outer robe.

Leftovers as gleanings, and cast-off rags as robes— that’s what’s fitting for me, the essentials of the homeless life.

Great seers expel sensual pleasures, both human and heavenly. Safe in their sanctuary, they are freed, having found unshakable happiness.

May I not encounter sensual pleasures, for no shelter is found in them. Sensual pleasures are enemies and killers, as painful as a mass of fire.

This is a roadblock, a threat, full of distress and thorns; it is a blind spot, uneven, a great gateway to confusion.

Hazardous and terrifying, sensual pleasures are like a cobra’s head, where fools delight, the blind ordinary folk.

Stuck in the swamp of sensuality, there are so many ignorant in the world. They know nothing of the end of rebirth and death.

Because of sensual pleasures, people jump right on to the path <j>that goes to a bad place. So many walk the path that brings disease onto themselves.

That’s how sensual pleasures create enemies; they are so tormenting, so corrupting, trapping beings with worldly pleasures of the flesh, they are nothing less than the bonds of death.

Maddening, enticing, sensual pleasures derange the mind. For the corruption of beings, swiftly ensnared by Māra.

Sensual pleasures are infinitely dangerous, they’re full of suffering, a terrible poison; offering little gratification, they’re makers of strife, withering bright qualities away.

Since I’ve created so much ruination because of sensual pleasures, I will not relapse to them again, but will always delight in extinguishment.

Having once made strife <j>for the sake of sensual pleasures, now I am longing for that cool state. I shall meditate diligently for the ending of all fetters.

Sorrowless, stainless, secure— I follow that path, the straight noble eightfold way by which the seers have crossed over.”

“Look at this: Subhā the smith’s daughter, standing firm in the teaching. She has entered the imperturbable state, meditating at the root of a tree.

It’s just eight days since she went forth, the faithful one, grace of the true teaching. Guided by Uppalavaṇṇā, she is master of the three knowledges, <j>conqueror of death.

This one is freed from slavery and debt, a nun with faculties developed. Unyoked from all yokes, she has completed the task <j>and is free of defilements.”

Thus did Sakka, lord of all creatures, along with a host of gods, having come by their psychic powers, honor Subhā, the smith’s daughter.

Going to the lovely mango grove of Jīvaka, the nun Subhā was held up by a rascal. Subhā said this to him:

“What harm have I done to you, that you stand in my way? Respectable sir, it’s not proper that a man should touch a woman gone forth.

This training was taught by the Holy One, it is a serious matter in my teacher’s instructions. I am pure and rid of blemishes, so why do you stand in my way?

One whose mind is clouded against one unclouded; one who is lustful against one free of lust; unblemished, my heart is freed in every respect, so why do you stand in my way?”

“You’re young and flawless— what will going-forth do for you? Throw away the ocher robe, come and play in the blossom grove.

Everywhere, the scent of pollen wafts sweet, born of the flowering woods. The start of spring is a happy time— come and play in the blossom grove.

And trees crested with flowers cry out, as it were, in the gale. But what kind of fun will you have if you plunge into the woods all alone?

Frequented by packs of predators, and cow elephants aroused by rutting bulls; you wish to go without a friend to the deserted, awe-inspiring forest.

Like a doll made of glittering gold, like a nymph wandering the park of bright vines, your matchless beauty will shine in graceful clothes of delicate Kāsian cloth.

I’ll be under your sway, if we are to stay in the forest. I love no creature more than you, O pixie with such captivating eyes.

Were you to take up my invitation— ‘Come, be happy, and live in a house’— you’ll stay in a longhouse sheltered from wind; let the ladies look to your needs.

Dressed in delicate Kāsian cloth, put on your garlands and your cosmetics. I’ll make all sorts of adornments for you, of lustrous gold and gems and pearls.

Climb onto a costly bed, its coverlet so clean and nice, with a new woolen mattress, so fragrant, sprinkled with sandalwood.

As a blue lily risen from the water remains untouched by men, so too, O chaste and holy lady, your limbs grow old unshared.”

“This carcass is full of putrefaction, it swells the charnel ground, for its nature is to fall apart. What do you think is so essential in it that you stare at me so crazily?”

“Your eyes are like those of a doe, or a pixie in the mountains; seeing them, erotic delight swells in me all the more.

Your eyes are like a blue lily’s bud in your flawless face <j>shining like coruscant gold. Seeing them, sensual excitement swells in me all the more.

Though you may wander far, I’ll still think of you, with lashes so long and eyes so bright. I love no eyes more than yours, O pixie with such bashful eyes.”

“You’re setting out on the wrong road! You’re looking to take the moon for your toy! You’re trying to leap over Mount Meru! You, who are hunting a child of the Buddha!

For in this world with all its gods, there will be no more lust anywhere in me. I don’t even know what kind it could be, it’s been smashed root and all by the path.

Cast out like sparks from fiery coals, it’s worth no more than a bowl of poison. I don’t even see what kind it could be, it’s been smashed root and all by the path.

Well may you try to seduce the type of lady who has not reflected on these things, or who has never attended the Teacher: but <em>this</em> is a lady who knows—now you’re in trouble!

No matter if I am reviled or praised, or feel pleasure or pain: I stay mindful. Knowing that conditions are ugly, my mind clings to nothing.

I am a disciple of the Holy One, riding in the carriage of the eightfold path. The dart pulled out, free of defilements, I’m happy to have reached an empty place.

I’ve seen brightly painted dolls and wooden puppets, tied to sticks and strings, and made to dance in many ways.

But when the sticks and strings are taken off— loosed, disassembled, dismantled, irrecoverable, stripped to parts— on what could the mind be fixed?