He who can curb his wrath
as soon as it arises,
as a timely antidote will check
snake's venom that so quickly spreads,
 — such a monk gives up the here and the beyond,
just as a serpent sheds its worn-out skin.

He who entirely cuts off his lust
as entering a pond one uproots lotus plants,
 — such a monk gives up the here and the beyond,
just as a serpent sheds its worn-out skin.

He who entirely cuts off his craving
by drying up its fierce and rapid flow,
 — such a monk gives up the here and the beyond,
just as a serpent sheds its worn-out skin.

He who entirely blots out conceit
as the wind demolishes a fragile bamboo bridge,
 — such a monk gives up the here and the beyond,
just as a serpent sheds its worn-out skin.

He who does not find core or substance
in any of the realms of being,
like flowers which are vainly sought
in fig trees that bear none,
 — such a monk gives up the here and the beyond,
just as a serpent sheds its worn-out skin.

He who bears no grudges in his heart,
transcending all this "thus" and "otherwise,"
 — such a monk gives up the here and the beyond,
just as a serpent sheds its worn-out skin.

He who has burned out his evil thoughts,
entirely cut them off within his heart,
 — such a monk gives up the here and the beyond, just as the 
serpent sheds its worn-out skin.

He who neither goes too far nor lags behind,
entirely transcending the diffuseness of the world,
 — such a monk gives up the here and the beyond,
just as a serpent sheds its worn-out skin.

He who neither goes too far nor lags behind
and knows about the world: "This is all unreal,"
 — such a monk gives up the here and the beyond,
just as a serpent sheds its worn-out skin.

He who neither goes too far nor lags behind,
greedless he knows: "This is all unreal,"
 — such a monk gives up the here and the beyond,
just as a serpent sheds its worn-out skin.

He who neither goes too far nor lags behind,
lust-free he knows: "This is all unreal,"
 — such a monk gives up the here and the beyond,
just as a serpent sheds its worn-out skin.

He who neither goes too far nor lags behind,
hate-free he knows: "This is all unreal,"
 — such a monk gives up the here and the beyond,
just as a serpent sheds its worn-out skin.

He who neither goes too far nor lags behind,
delusion-free he knows: "This is all unreal,"
 — such a monk gives up the here and the beyond,
just as a serpent sheds its worn-out skin.

He who has no dormant tendencies whatever,
whose unwholesome roots have been expunged,
 — such a monk gives up the here and the beyond,
just as a serpent sheds its worn-out skin.

States born of anxiety he harbors none
which may condition his return to earth,
 — such a monk gives up the here and the beyond,
just as a serpent sheds its worn-out skin.

States born of attachment he harbors none
which cause his bondage to existence,
 — such a monk gives up the here and the beyond,
just as a serpent sheds its worn-out skin.

He who has the five hindrances discarded,
doubt-free and serene, and free of inner barbs,
 — such a monk gives up the here and the beyond,
just as a serpent sheds its worn-out skin.