Dhammapada 11

Minor Collection

Sayings of the Dhamma 146–156

11. Old Age

146 What is joy, what is laughter,

when the flames are ever burning?

Swathed in darkness,

would you not seek a light?

147 See this fancy puppet,

a body built of sores,

diseased, obsessed over,

in which nothing lasts at all.

148 This body is decrepit and frail,

a nest of disease.

This foul carcass falls apart,

for life ends in death.

149 These dove-grey bones

are tossed away like

dried gourds in the autumn—

what joy is there in such a sight?

150 In this city built of bones,

plastered with flesh and blood,

old age and death are stashed away,

along with conceit and contempt.

151 Fancy chariots of kings wear out,

and even this body gets old.

But the truth of the good never gets old—

so the good proclaim to the good.

152 A person of little learning

ages like an ox—

their flesh grows,

but not their wisdom.

153 Transmigrating through countless rebirths,

I’ve journeyed without reward,

searching for the house-builder;

painful is birth again and again.

154 I’ve seen you, house-builder!

You won’t build a house again!

Your rafters are all broken,

your roof-peak demolished.

The mind, set on demolition,

has reached the end of cravings.

155 When young they spurned the spiritual path

and failed to earn any wealth.

Now they brood like old cranes

in a pond bereft of fish.

156 When young they spurned the spiritual path

and failed to earn any wealth.

Now they lie like spent arrows,

bemoaning over things past.