1. When this world is ever ablaze, why this laughter, why this jubilation? Shrouded in darkness, will you not see the light?

2. Behold this body — a painted image, a mass of heaped up sores, infirm, full of hankering — of which nothing is lasting or stable!

3. Fully worn out is this body, a nest of disease, and fragile. This foul mass breaks up, for death is the end of life.

4. These dove-colored bones are like gourds that lie scattered about in autumn. Having seen them, how can one seek delight?

5. This city (body) is built of bones, plastered with flesh and blood; within are decay and death, pride and jealousy.

6. Even gorgeous royal chariots wear out, and indeed this body too wears out. But the Dhamma of the Good does not age; thus the Good make it known to the good.

7. The man of little learning grows old like a bull. He grows only in bulk, but, his wisdom does not grow.

8. Through many a birth in samsara have I wandered in vain, seeking the builder of this house (of life). Repeated birth is indeed suffering!

9. O house-builder, you are seen! You will not build this house again. For your rafters are broken and your ridgepole shattered. My mind has reached the Unconditioned; I have attained the destruction of craving. [13]

10. Those who in youth have not led the holy life, or have failed to acquire wealth, languish like old cranes in the pond without fish.

11. Those who in youth have not lead the holy life, or have failed to acquire wealth, lie sighing over the past, like worn out arrows (shot from) a bow.

“Jaravagga: Old Age” (Dhp XI), translated from the Pali by Acharya Buddharakkhita. Access to Insight (BCBS Edition), 30 November 2013.
Link to this article

146

What laughter, why joy,
when constantly aflame?
Enveloped in darkness,
don’t you look for a lamp?

147

Look at the beautified image,
a heap of festering wounds, shored up:
ill, but the object
of many resolves,
where there is nothing
lasting or sure.

148

Worn out is this body,
a nest of diseases, dissolving.
This putrid conglomeration
is bound to break up,
for life is hemmed in with death.

149

On seeing these bones
discarded
like gourds in the fall,
pigeon-gray:
what delight?

150

A city made of bones,
plastered over with flesh & blood,
whose hidden treasures are:
pride & contempt,
aging & death.

151

Even royal chariots
well-embellished
get run down,
and so does the body
succumb to old age.
But the Dhamma of the good
doesn’t succumb to old age:
the good let the civilized know.

152

This unlistening man
matures like an ox.
His muscles develop,
his discernment not.

153-154

Through the round of many births I roamed
without reward,
without rest,
seeking the house-builder.
Painful is birth
again & again.

House-builder, you’re seen!
You will not build a house again.
All your rafters broken,
the ridge pole dismantled,
immersed in dismantling, the mind
has attained to the end of craving.

155-156

Neither living the chaste life
nor gaining wealth in their youth,
they waste away like old herons
in a dried-up lake
depleted of fish.

Neither living the chaste life
nor gaining wealth in their youth,
they lie around,
misfired from the bow,
sighing over old times.

“Jaravagga: Aging” (Dhp XI), translated from the Pali by Thanissaro Bhikkhu. Access to Insight (BCBS Edition), 30 November 2013.
Link to this article