It's too cold,
too hot,
too late in the evening —
people who say this,
shirking their work:
	the moment passes them by.
Whoever regards cold & heat
as no more than grass,
doing his manly duties,
	won't fall away
	from ease.
With my chest
I push through wild grasses — 
	spear-grass,
	ribbon-grass,
	rushes — 
cultivating
		a seclusion heart.

His limbs knotted
like a kala plant,
his body lean
& lined with veins,
knowing moderation
in food & drink:
	the man of undaunted heart.

Touched by gnats
& horseflies
	in the wilds,
	the great wood,
like an elephant
at the head of a battle:
	he, mindful,
	should stay there
	endure.

One alone is like Brahma,
two, like devas,
three, like a village,
more than that:
	a hullabaloo.

Listen, kinsmen, all of you,
as many as are assembled here.
I will teach you the Dhamma:
	Painful is birth,
	again & again.

Rouse yourselves.
	Go forth.
Apply yourselves
to the Awakened One's bidding.
Scatter the army of Death
as an elephant would
a shed made of reeds.

He who,
in this doctrine & discipline,
remains heedful,
abandoning birth,
	the wandering-on,
will put an end
to suffering & stress.

While wandering on
I went to hell;
	went again & again
to the world of the hungry shades;
	stayed countless times, long,
in the pain of the animal womb;
	enjoyed
the human state;
went to heaven
	from time to time;
settled in the elements of form,
the elements of formlessness,
neither-perception, perception-less.

Ways of taking birth
are now known:
	devoid of essence,
	unstable,
	conditioned,
	always driven along.
Knowing them
as born from my self,
mindful
I went right to peace.

Whoever wants to do later
what he should have done first,
falls away from the easeful state
	& later burns with remorse.

One should speak
as one would act,
& not
as one wouldn't.
When one speaks without acting,
the wise, they can tell.

How very easeful:
	Unbinding,
as taught by the Rightly
Self-awakened One — 
		sorrowless,
		dustless,
		secure,
where stress
& suffering
cease.