The Chapter about Old Age (DHP146-156)

Why this laughter, why this joy, when the world is constantly burning,
why, when enveloped by darkness, do you not seek for a light?

See this beautified manikin, a heap of sores that is raised up,
sick, imagined in many ways, which has nothing stable or firm.

This body is worn out, a nest of disease, perishing,
the putrid body comes to destruction, for life ends in death.

Like discarded white gourds thrown away in autumn
are these grey bones; seeing them, why is there delight?

This fortress is made out of bones,
plastered over with flesh and blood,
but hidden within lie old age,
death, also conceit and anger.

Decorated royal chariots decay,
and the body also decays,
but the good Dhamma does not decay,
the good surely pass it on to the good.

The person of little learning increases in age like an ox,
for although his flesh does increase, his wisdom does not increase.

Through the round of countless births and deaths I have wandered without finding
the housebuilder I was seeking: born and suffering once again.
O housebuilder, now you are seen! You will not build the house again:
all your rafters have been broken, and the ridgepole has been destroyed,
my mind has reached the unconditioned, and craving’s end has been achieved.

Not having lived the holy life, not having gained wealth in their youth,
they waste away like herons in a small lake devoid of fish.

Not having lived the holy life, not having gained wealth in their youth,
they lie like shafts shot from a bow, wailing about things in the past.

Translated by Ānandajoti Bhikkhu.

2nd edition, November 2017.

The text and translation, together with detailed notes and discussions, may be found in multiple formats on the translator’s website, Ancient Buddhist Texts.

Used by kind permission of Bhikkhu Ānandajoti.

The original translation was released under the following licence: Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

Prepared for SuttaCentral by Aminah Borg-Luck.