Old Age

Why is there laughter? Why is there joy although (the world) is always burning? Shrouded in darkness why not seek the light?

Look at this dressed up body, a mass of sores, supported (by bones), sickly, a subject of many thoughts (of sensual desire). Indeed, that body is neither permanent nor enduring.

This body is worn out-with age, it is the seat of sickness, it is subject to decay. This putrid body disintegrates; life, indeed, ends in death.

Like gourds thrown away in autumn are these dove-grey bones; what pleasure is there in seeing them?

This body (lit., the city) is built up with bones which are covered with flesh and blood; within this dwell (lit., are deposited) decay and death, pride and detraction (of others' virtues and reputation).

The much ornamented royal carriages do wear out, the body also grows old, but the Dhamma of the Virtuous does not decay. Thus, indeed, say the Virtuous among themselves.

This man of little learning grows old like an ox; only his flesh grows but not his wisdom.

I, who have been seeking the builder of this house (body), failing to attain Enlightenment (Bodhi nana or Sabbannuta nana) which would enable me to find him, have wandered through innumerable births in samsara. To be born again and again is, indeed, dukkha!

Oh house-builder! You are seen, you shall build no house (for me) again. All your rafters are broken, your roof-tree is destroyed. My mind has reached the unconditioned (i.e., Nibbana); the end of craving (Arahatta Phala) has been attained.

They, who in youth have neither led the life of Purity nor have acquired wealth, waste away in dejection like decrepit herons on a drying pond deplete of fish.

They, who in youth have neither led the Life of Purity nor have acquired wealth, lie helplessly like arrows that have lost momentum, moaning and sighing after the past.