प्रशान्तकलनारम्भं चेत्यरिक्तचिदास्पदम् । पदं जगाम नीरागं पुष्पगन्ध इवाम्बरम्
He attained a state free from desire, a seat of pure consciousness devoid of objects, calm and without the stirrings of thought, like fragrance diffused in the sky.
अथ भार्या मुनेर् देहं प्राणापानविवर्जितम् । दृष्ट्वाविलुठितं भूमौ विनालम् इव पङ्कजम्
Then the sage's wife, seeing his body devoid of the life-breaths, lying tossed upon the ground like a lotus without its stalk,
चिरम् अभ्यस्तया योगयुक्त्या पतिवितीर्णया । तत्याज तनुम् अम्लानां षट्पदी पद्मिनीम् इव
Having long practiced the discipline of yoga and fulfilled her duty as a wife, she abandoned her withered body like a bee leaving a lotus.
भर्तारम् एवानुययौ जनस्यादृश्यतां गतम् । प्रभागगनकोशस्थम् अस्तं यातम् इवोडुपम्
She followed her husband, who had become invisible to people, just as a ray of light follows the moon as it sets into the sky's vault.
मातापित्रोस् तु गतयोर् और्ध्वदैहिककर्मणि । पुण्य एव स्थिते ऽव्यग्रे पावनो दुःखम् आययौ
When both parents had departed and the funeral rites were performed, Pāvana, though his mind was not distracted, was overcome by sorrow.
शोकोपहतचित्तो ऽसौ भ्रमन् काननवीथिषु । ज्यायांसम् अनवेक्ष्यैव पावनो विललाप ह
His mind afflicted by grief, Pāvana wandered along the forest paths, lamenting without even looking at his elder brother.
अथौर्ध्वदैहिकं कृत्वा मातापित्रोर् उदारधीः । आययौ विपिने पुण्यः पावनं शोकलालसम्
Then Puṇya, of noble mind, having performed the funeral rites for their parents, came into the forest to Pāvana, who was absorbed in sorrow.
किं पुत्र घनतां शोकं नयस्य् आन्ध्यैककारणम् । बाष्पधाराकरं घोरं प्रावृट्काल इवाम्बुदम्
Why, my son, do you let grief become so dense, the sole cause of blindness, a terrible mass of tears like a rain cloud in the monsoon season?
पिता तव महाप्राज्ञ गतस् सार्धं त्वदम्बया । स्वाम् एव परमां आत्मपदवीं मोक्षनामिकाम्
Your father, O wise one, together with your mother, has attained that supreme path of the Self, known as liberation.
तत् स्थानं सर्वजन्तूनां तद् रूपं विदितात्मनाम् । स्वं भावम् अभिसम्पन्ने किं पितर्य् अभिशोचसि
That state belongs to all beings; that form is of those who know the Self. When one's own nature is fully realized, why do you grieve for your father?
किम् ईदृशी त्वया बद्धा भावनेह विमोहजा । संसारे यद् अशोच्यो ऽपि त्वया तातो ऽनुशोच्यते
Why have you formed such a notion here, born of delusion? In this world, though your father is not to be grieved for, you still lament him.
न सैव भवतो माता नासाव् एव पिता तव । न भवान् एव तनयस् तयोर् निस्सङ्ख्यपुत्रयोः
She is not truly your mother, nor is he truly your father; nor are you truly the son of those parents who have countless children.
मातापितृसहस्राणि समतीतानि ते सुत । बहून्य् अम्बुप्रवाहस्य निम्नानीव वने वने
Thousands of mothers and fathers have passed for you, O son, like the many hollows of a stream in forest after forest.
असङ्ख्यपुत्रयोर् नैव भवान् एव सुतस् तयोः । सरित्तरङ्गवत् पुत्र गताः पुत्रगणा नृणाम्
Of those parents with countless children, you are not truly their son; like the waves of a river, the groups of sons among people have passed away.
अस्मत्पित्रोर् अतीतानि पुत्रलक्षाण्य् अनेकशः । पत्त्रकोरकवृन्दानि लतापादपयोर् इव
For our parents, hundreds of thousands of sons have passed away, like clusters of leaves and shoots at the roots of a creeper.
मित्रबान्धववृन्दानि जन्तोर् जन्मनि जन्मनि । ऋताव् ऋताव् अतीतानि फलानीव महातरोः
Groups of friends and relatives have passed away for a being in every birth, like the fruits of a great tree in every season.
शोचनीया यदि स्नेहान् मातापितृसुतास् सुत । तद् अतीता न शोच्यन्ते किम् अजस्रं सहस्रशः
If mothers, fathers, and sons are to be grieved for out of affection, then those who have passed are not grieved for—why, then, grieve endlessly for the countless ones?
प्रपञ्चो ऽयं महाभाग दृश्यते जागतो भ्रमः । परमार्थेन तु प्राज्ञ नास्ति मित्रं न बान्धवः
This world, O noble one, appears as a projection, a delusion of waking; but in truth, O wise one, there is neither friend nor relative.
मनाग् अपीह हि भ्रातः परमार्थे न विद्यते । महत्य् अपि चिरात् तप्ते मराव् इव पयोलवः
Brother, even the slightest trace of reality does not exist here; even after a long time of intense effort, it is like a drop of water in the desert.
एता याः प्रेक्षसे लक्ष्मीश् छत्त्रचामरचञ्चलाः । स्वप्न एव महाबुद्धे दिनानि त्रीणि पञ्च वा
These luxuries you see—umbrellas, fans, and their flickering splendor—are, O great-minded one, like a dream lasting three or five days.
दृष्ट्या तु पारमार्थिक्या पुत्र सत्यं विचारय । नेह त्वं नैव चेदं ते भ्रान्तिम् अन्तः परित्यज
Son, examine truly with the vision of ultimate reality: neither you nor this belongs to you; abandon the inner delusion.
अयं मृतो गतश् चाहम् इतीमा दृष्टयः पुनः । स्वसङ्कल्पोपतापोत्था दृश्यन्ते न तु सत्यतः
This thought—'he is dead, he is gone, I am this'—arises again and again, born from one's own imagination, but is not true in reality.
अज्ञानविस्तीर्णमरौ विलोलैश् शुभाशुभस्पन्दमयैस् तरङ्गैः । स्ववासनातापमरीचिवारि परिस्फुरत्य् एतद् अनन्तरूपम्
On the vast desert of ignorance, this ever-changing manifestation arises, shimmering with waves of auspicious and inauspicious impulses, like water from the rays of one's own tendencies.
कः पिता किं च वा मित्रं का माता के च बन्धवः । स्वबुद्ध्यैवावधूयन्ते वात्यया जनपांसवः
Who is father, what is friend, who is mother, who are relatives? By one's own understanding, they are cast aside like dust swept away by the wind.
बन्धुमित्रसुतस्नेहद्वेषमोहदशामयः । स्वसञ्ज्ञामात्रकेणैव प्रपञ्चो ऽयं वितन्यते
The states of affection, aversion, delusion for relatives, friends, sons—all this world is woven only by one's own sense of self.
बन्धुत्वे भावितो बन्धुः परत्वे भावितः परः । विषामृतदशेवैषा स्थितिर् भावनिबन्धनी
When kinship is imagined, one is considered a relative; when otherness is imagined, one is considered an outsider. This state, bound by imagination, is like the experience of poison and nectar.
एकत्वे वर्तमानस्य सर्वगस्य किलात्मनः । अयं बन्धुः परश् चायम् इत्य् असत्कलना कुतः
For the self, which is ever-present and all-pervading, how can there be the false conception of 'this is a relative, that is an outsider'?
रक्तमांसास्थिसङ्घाताद् देहाद् एवास्थिपञ्जरात् । को ऽहं स्याम् इति चित्तेन स्वयं पुत्र विचारय
Reflect for yourself, my son: from this body, which is merely a mass of blood, flesh, and bones, enclosed in a cage of bones, who am I?
दृष्ट्या तु पारमार्थिक्या न कश्चित् त्वं न चाप्य् अहम् । मिथ्याज्ञानम् इदं पुण्यः पावनश् चेति वल्गति
From the perspective of ultimate truth, neither you nor I truly exist; this mistaken knowledge, which says 'this is virtuous, this is purifying,' merely wanders about.
कस् ते पिता कश् च सुहृत् का माता कश् च वा परः । खस्यानन्तविलासस्य किम् अस्वं किं स्वम् उच्यताम्
Who is your father, who is your friend, who is your mother, and who is an outsider? In the infinite play of space, what is not yours and what is yours—let it be declared.