金光明最勝王經疏 6.202

6.202

經　爾時世尊欲重宣此義而說頌言：「我念過去世，無量無數劫，或時作國王，或復為王子，常行於大施，及捨所愛身，願出離生死，至妙菩提處。昔時有大國，國主名大車，王子名勇猛，常施心無悋。王子有二兄，號大渠大天，三人同出遊，漸至出林所。見虎飢所逼，便生如是心：『此虎飢火燒，更無餘可食。』大士覩如斯，恐其將食子，捨身無所顧，救子不令傷。大地及諸山，一時皆震動，江海皆騰躍，驚波水逆流。天地失光明，昏冥無所見，林野諸禽獸，飛奔喪所依。二兄怪不還，憂慼生悲苦，即與諸侍從，林藪遍尋求。兄弟共籌議，復往深山處，四顧無所有，見虎處空林。其母并七子，口皆有血污，殘骨并餘髮，縱橫在地中，復見有流血，散在竹林所。二兄既見已，心生大恐怖，悶絕俱躄地，荒迷不覺知，塵土坌其身，六情皆失念。王子諸侍從，啼泣心憂惱，以水灑令甦，舉手號咷哭。菩薩捨身時，慈母在宮內，五百諸婇女，共受於妙樂。夫人之兩乳，忽然自流出，遍體如針刺，苦痛不能安。欻生失子想，憂箭苦傷心，即白大王知，陳斯苦惱事，悲泣不堪忍，哀聲向王說：『大王今當知，我生大苦惱。兩乳忽流出，禁止不應心，如針遍刺身，煩惋胸欲破。我先夢惡徵，必當失愛子。願王濟我命，知兒存與亡。夢見三鴿鶵，小者是愛子，忽被鷹奪去，悲愁難具陳。我今沒憂海，趣死將不久，恐子命不全，願為速求覓。又聞外人語，小子求不得，我今意不安，願王哀愍我。』夫人白王已，舉身而躄地，悲痛心悶絕，荒迷不覺知。婇女見夫人，悶絕在於地，舉聲皆大哭，憂惶失所依。王聞如是語，懷憂不自勝，因命諸群臣，尋求所愛子。皆共出城外，隨處而追覓，涕泣問諸人：『王子今何在？今者為存亡？誰知所去處？云何令得見，解我憂惱心。』諸人悉共傳，咸言王子死。聞者皆傷悼，悲歎苦難裁。爾時大車王，悲號從座起，即就夫人處，以水灑其身。夫人蒙水灑，久乃得醒悟，悲啼以問王：『我兒今在不？』王告夫人曰。我已使諸人。四向求王子。尚未有消息。王又告夫人：『汝莫生煩惱，且當自安慰，可共出追尋。』王即與夫人，嚴駕而前進，號慟聲悽感，憂心若火然。士庶百千萬，亦隨王出城，各欲求王子，悲號聲不絕。王求愛子故，目視於四方，見有一人來，被髮身塗血，遍體蒙塵土，悲哭逆前來。王見是惡相，倍復生憂惱，王便舉兩手，哀號不自裁。初有一大臣，怱忙至王所，進白大王曰：『幸願忽悲哀！王之所愛子，今雖求未獲，不久當來至，以釋大王憂。』王復更前行，見次大臣至，其臣詣王所，流淚白王言：『二子今現存，被憂火所逼。其第三王子，已被無常吞。見餓虎初生，將欲食其子，彼薩埵王子，見此起悲心，願求無上道，當度一切眾。繫想妙菩提，廣大深如海，即上高山頂，投身餓虎前。虎羸不能食，以竹自傷頸，遂啗王子身，唯有餘骸骨。』時王及夫人，聞已俱悶絕，心沒於憂海，煩惱火燒然。臣以栴檀水，灑王及夫人，俱起大悲號，舉手搥胸臆。第三大臣來，白王如是語：『我見二王子，悶絕在林中，臣以冷水灑，爾乃暫甦息。顧視於四方，如猛火周遍，暫起而還伏，悲號不自勝，舉手以哀言，稱歎弟希有。』王聞如是說，倍增憂火煎。夫人大號咷，高聲作是語：『我之小子遍鍾愛，已為無常羅剎吞。餘有二子今現存，復被憂火所燒逼。我今速可至山下，安慰令其保餘命。』即便馳駕望前路，一心詣彼捨身崖。路逢二子行啼泣，搥胸懊惱失容儀，父母見已抱憂悲，俱往山林捨身處。既至菩薩捨身地，共聚悲號生大苦，脫去瓔珞盡哀心，收取菩薩身餘骨。與諸人眾同供養，共造七寶窣堵波，以彼舍利置函中，整駕懷憂趣城邑。」

Sūtra: At that time, the World-Honoured One, wishing to restate this meaning, spoke verses:
“I recall in past lifetimes, / over immeasurable and incalculable kalpas,
sometimes being a king, / and at other times a prince,
always practising great giving, / and giving up my cherished body,
wishing to transcend birth and death, / and reach the place of wondrous bodhi.
Formerly there was a great kingdom; / the ruler of the kingdom was named Mahāratha.
The prince was named Mahāsattva, / always giving with a mind free from stinginess.
The prince had two elder brothers, / named Mahāpraṇāda and Mahādeva.
The three went roaming out together, / and gradually came to a forest.
Seeing a tigress oppressed by hunger, / he then gave rise to this thought:
‘This tigress is scorched by the fire of hunger; / there is nothing else for her to eat.’
The Great Being, seeing such as this, / feared she was about to eat her cubs;
giving up his body without regard for himself, / he saved the cubs and kept them from harm.
The great earth and the various mountains / all shook at once;
the rivers and seas surged up; / startled waves flowed backwards.
Heaven and earth lost their light, / falling into dim darkness where nothing could be seen;
the birds and beasts of the woods and wilds / flew and fled, losing what they relied on.
The two elder brothers wondered why he did not return; / grief and sorrow produced lamentation,
so together with the attendants, / they searched everywhere through the thickets.
The brothers conferred together, / and went again to the deep mountain.
Looking around, there was nothing, / but they saw the tigress in the empty forest.
The mother together with her seven cubs / all had blood stained on their mouths;
residual bones along with remaining hair / lay criss-crossed upon the ground;
furthermore, they saw flowing blood / scattered about the bamboo grove.
Once the two brothers had seen this, / their minds gave rise to great terror;
they fell swooning to the ground, / dazed and unconscious;
dust covered their bodies, / and the six sense-faculties all lost mindfulness.
The prince’s attendants / wept and were distressed in mind;
sprinkling them with water to revive them, / they raised their hands and wailed aloud.
When the Bodhisattva gave up his body, / the loving mother was in the palace,
with five hundred palace maidens, / together enjoying wondrous pleasure.
The lady's two breasts / suddenly flowed with milk of themselves;
her whole body felt as if pricked by needles; / in extreme pain, she could find no peace.
Suddenly she gave rise to the thought that she had lost her son; / the arrow of grief painfully wounded her heart.
She at once informed the great king, / relating these matters of distress;
unable to bear her sorrowful weeping, / she spoke to the king in a mournful voice:
‘Great King, you should know now / that I have given rise to great distress.
My two breasts have suddenly flowed with milk, / unrestrained against my will;
as if needles were pricking my whole body, / in distress my chest feels about to burst.
I previously had an evil omen in a dream; / I must surely have lost my beloved son.
May the king save my life, / and find out if our boy is alive or dead.
In a dream I saw three fledgling doves; / the youngest was my beloved son;
suddenly it was seized away by a hawk;
my grief and sorrow are hard to recount in full.
I am now submerged in an ocean of grief, / and will soon approach death;
fearing that my son's life is not preserved, / please seek him out swiftly.
Furthermore, I heard the words of outsiders / that the young boy could not be found;
my mind is now ill at ease; / may the king have pity on me.’
After the lady informed the king, / she threw her whole body to the ground;
her heart swooning from sorrow, / she was dazed and unconscious.
The palace maidens, seeing the lady / swooning on the ground, / all wept aloud, / anxious and fearful, having lost their support.
The king, hearing these words, / could not overcome his grief;
he therefore ordered all his ministers / to search for his beloved son.
They all went outside the city together, / pursuing and searching everywhere,
weeping and asking various people:
‘Where is the prince now?
Is he alive or dead today?
Who knows where he has gone?
How can he be seen, / to relieve our grief and distress?’
All the people spread the report together, / unanimously saying the prince was dead.
Those who heard it all mourned with grief;
their painful sighs were hard to contain.
At that time King Mahāratha, / wailing in grief, rose from his seat;
he immediately went to the lady's place, / and sprinkled her body with water.
The lady, showered with the water, / only woke after a long time;
weeping with sorrow, she asked the king:
‘Is my son still alive or not?’
The king told the lady:
‘I have already dispatched everyone / to seek the prince in all four directions;
as yet there is no news.’
The king further told the lady:
‘Do not give rise to distress; / for now, comfort yourself;
we may go out together to search.’
The king then, with the lady, / set out forward in an adorned carriage;
their sorrowful wailing was poignant, / their grieving hearts like burning fire.
Hundreds, thousands, ten thousands of commoners / also followed the king out of the city,
each wishing to seek the prince, / their wailing voices never ceasing.
Because the king was seeking his beloved son, / he gazed out in the four directions;
he saw a man coming, / with dishevelled hair and body smeared with blood,
his whole body covered in dust, / coming forward in tears to meet them.
The king, seeing this ill omen, / gave rise to doubly increased distress;
the king then raised both hands, / wailing with grief, unable to control himself.
First, a chief minister / arrived in haste at the king’s place;
he stepped forward and addressed the great king:
‘I humbly pray you do not grieve!
Although the king’s beloved son / has not yet been found in the search,
he will arrive before long, / to relieve the great king's grief.’
The king went further forward, / and saw the next minister arrive;
that minister approached the king’s place, / and shedding tears, addressed the king:
‘The two sons are now alive, / but are oppressed by the fire of grief.
The third prince / has already been swallowed by impermanence.
Seeing that a hungry tigress had just given birth, / and was about to eat her cubs,
that prince Mahāsattva, / seeing this, gave rise to a compassionate heart;
vowing to seek the unsurpassed path, / he would cross over all sentient beings.
Fixing his thought on wondrous bodhi, / vast and deep like the ocean,
he then went up to the high mountain peak, / and threw his body before the hungry tigress.
The tigress was too weak to eat; / he pierced his own neck with a bamboo splinter;
she then devoured the prince’s body, / leaving only the remaining bones.’
At that time, the king and the lady, / having heard this, both fell into a swoon, / their hearts submerged in an ocean of grief, / burning with the fire of distress.
The minister sprinkled the king and the lady / with sandalwood water;
they both raised a great wail of grief, / beating their chests with their hands.
The third minister arrived, / and addressed the king with these words:
‘I saw the two princes / lying swooned in the forest;
I sprinkled them with cold water, / and only then did they revive for a moment.
Looking around in the four directions, / as if surrounded by fierce fire,
they rose briefly and then fell prostrate again, / unable to overcome their mournful wailing;
raising their hands, they spoke sorrowful words, / praising their younger brother as rare.’
The king, hearing this statement, / felt the scorching fire of grief doubly increase.
The lady wailed loudly, / speaking these words in a high voice:
‘My youngest son was cherished above all, / and has already been devoured by the rākṣasa of impermanence.
The remaining two sons are still alive now, / but are also scorched and oppressed by the fire of grief.
I must now go quickly to the foot of the mountain, / to comfort them and preserve their remaining lives.’
They immediately drove their carriage looking ahead on the road, / single-mindedly heading towards that cliff where he gave up his body.
On the road they met the two sons walking and weeping, / beating their chests in anguish, having lost all composure;
the parents, seeing them, embraced sorrow and grief, / and went together to the mountain forest where he gave up his body.
Having reached the place where the Bodhisattva gave up his body, / they gathered together, wailing in grief and experiencing great suffering;
taking off their necklaces, giving full vent to their sorrow, / they collected the remaining bones of the Bodhisattva's body.
Together with the multitudes, they made offerings, / and jointly built a seven-jewelled stūpa;
placing those relics in a casket, / they prepared their carriage and headed back to the city with heavy hearts.”