The results of actions, born from the endless succession of beings in the three worlds, yield pleasures and pains that ripen differently for each. Yet, every day, these fruits are swept away by the relentless winds of time, falling from the vast tree of ever-spreading transmigration. Thus, when the great mind is scorched by the fire of discernment, desires for enjoyment no longer arise, just as shimmering mirages do not appear in the clear waters of a real lake. Day by day, the cycle of worldly existence grows more bitter, its taste sharp and harsh like the ripened fruit of a neem tree. In people’s hearts, O King, harshness increases and goodness dwindles, as if in a grove full of rough karañja trees. Boundaries on earth are shattered in all directions, suddenly and violently, like dry bean pods splitting open with a sharp crack. Even kings, surrounded by kingdoms and heaps of enjoyment, are beset with worries. It is better, indeed, to be solitary, free from the budding anxieties that plague the mind. My own garden no longer brings me joy, nor does my wealth bring happiness. The desire for gain does not delight me; I am at rest within my own mind. This world is impermanent, devoid of lasting happiness, and the thirst for enjoyment is difficult to bear. With a mind restless and afflicted, how can peace be found? I neither welcome death nor cling to life; I remain as I am, free from feverish longing. What use is a kingdom to me now, or enjoyments, or wealth, or ambition? All these were driven by ego, but now that has fallen away. In the endless chain of births, the bonds of the senses are strong indeed. Truly noble are those who strive to free themselves from these attachments. My mind has been bruised by the proud and fickle people of this world, just as a tender lotus is crushed beneath the heavy foot of an elephant. O great sage, if today the mind is not healed with true understanding, when will there ever be another opportunity for such a remedy? Poison is not truly poison; rather, the discord of sense-objects is the real poison, for sense-objects destroy across lifetimes, while ordinary poison destroys only one body. Neither pleasure nor pain, neither friends nor relatives, neither life nor death can bind the mind of the wise. O knower of past and future, O Brahman, instruct me swiftly, so that I may become like that sage—free from sorrow, fear, and toil. The forest of ignorance is tangled with the net of tendencies, crowded with the thorns of suffering, dense with pitfalls and calamities, and terrifying in its form. O sage, I can endure the fierce torment—the sharp pain, like being sawed apart—caused by the poison and distress of worldly dealings. The delusion of people, saying “this is not, this is,” shakes this fickle mind as the wind scatters a heap of dust. The collection of lives, strung together by the threads of craving, is like a pearl whose luster reflects consciousness, ever shining forth as the leader of the mind. I will tear apart the merciless net of worldly existence—the disgust that is the necklace of the serpent of time—just as a lion breaks free from a snare. O best of those who know reality, with the lamp of knowledge, swiftly dispel the mist in the forest of my heart, the darkness that clouds my mind. O great soul, those who possess the highest minds are not afflicted by misfortune here; just as sharp flesh is not diminished by the cool rays of the moon, so too do adversities not bring them to ruin. Life is fragile, like a cluster of lotuses shaken by the wind; pleasures are as fleeting as lightning playing among the clouds; youth, fondness, and the waves of desire are all unstable. Realizing this, I have swiftly fixed my mind, like a seal set firmly on a mountain, seeking lasting peace. When I see the world sunk in the pit of suffering, crowded with calamities, my mind too becomes immersed in the mire of anxious thoughts. My mind wanders in confusion, agitation arises, and my limbs tremble like the leaves of an old tree. My understanding, deprived of the company of supreme contentment, is disturbed; it fears emptiness, like a child-king with little strength. The movements of my inner faculty are tossed about by doubts, like deer mocked by empty wells. Having fallen from the ground of discernment, established in hardship and not in the good path, my senses—sight and others—are like the unfortunate who have fallen into a blind well. Worry does not settle, nor does it proceed as I wish; it depends on the lord of life, like a beloved woman in a house she does not welcome. Having worn out and abandoned things, and yet still bearing them, my resolve has become unsteady, like a creeper at the end of the Mārgaśīrṣa month. All value has been cast aside, instability has taken hold; having seized and let go of myself, even my own state is unsettled. My mind is mocked by its own inner support, which is both shifting and unmoving, like the root of a tree broken by poverty. The mind is restless, delighting in sense-objects, wandering through worlds, and does not abandon its confusion, like a god in his own aerial chariot. What is that state of abiding which is not trivial, effortless, without any basis, free from confusion, and in which no doubt exists? All the noble ones, like Janaka and others, were engaged in all kinds of worldly activities—how did they attain the highest state? Even when closely attached to many things and showing great respect, how does a person here not become tainted by the mire of worldly existence? Relying on what vision do these great ones, living liberated and pure of stain, move about in this world? Objects of enjoyment entice only for the sake of fear; how can those whose nature is unstable and whose wealth is fleeting ever attain auspiciousness? When the mind is trampled by the elephant of delusion and stained within by blemishes, how can the lake of intellect ever reach supreme clarity?