Lakuṇḍa­ka­bhaddi­ya

Bhaddiya has plucked out craving, root and all,
And in a jungle thicket
On the far side of Ambāṭaka park,
He practices jhāna; he is truly well-favoured.
Some delight in drums,
In lutes, and in cymbals;
But here, at the foot of a tree,
I delight in the Buddha’s teaching.
If the Buddha were to grant me one wish,
And I were to get what I wished for,
I’d choose that the whole world
Be always mindful of the body.
Those who’ve judged me by my appearance,
And those who’ve followed me because of my voice,
They’re under the sway of desire and lust;
They don’t know me.
Not knowing what’s inside,
Not seeing what’s outside;
The fool, obstructed all around,
Is carried away by my voice.
Not knowing what’s inside,
But discerning what’s outside;
They too, seeing only the external fruits of practice,
Are carried away by my voice.
Understanding what’s inside,
And discerning what’s outside;
They, seeing without obstacles,
Are not carried away by my voice.