English (machine translation)

Language: English
Extent: 100 passages, 18,611 words
Text: complete digital text
Source: pramana-mt · Machine translation by Gemini 3.8 Flash (2026-10-21) of in.bauddha.taisho.185 · Machine output without human authorship: no copyright is claimed (CC0 1.0). The original text keeps its own…

1 — 52 parts
2 — 48 parts

Text

1.1

Translated by Zhi Qian, Upāsaka of the Yuezhi, under the Wu dynasty

"I recall that in my past lives, during countless kalpas, I was originally an ordinary mortal. From the time I first sought the Buddha Way, my conscious spirit received forms, transmigrating everywhere through the five realms. As one body died and decomposed, I received yet another body, through measureless births and deaths. Were one to take all the grasses and trees in the world and cut them into counting-rods, to calculate my former bodies, they could not be numbered.

1.4

"The span from the beginning to the end of heaven and earth is called one kalpa, yet the times I have undergone the formation and destruction of heaven and earth cannot be calculated or recorded. I was moved to sorrow that worldly beings' covetous thoughts flow ever on, drowning them in the sea of desire, and because I alone wished to return to their source, I exerted myself to stand apart. For this reason, across life after life, I endured diligence and hardship without regarding them as toil; with an open mind I took joy in serenity, remaining unconditioned and free of desire; diminishing myself to practice generosity, keeping the precepts with supreme sincerity, practicing humility and forbearance, being valiant and energetic, focusing my mind on subtle reflection, and studying sage wisdom. I preserved the lives of the world with benevolence, grieved for the destitute, took pity on the distressed, soothed those who sorrowed, nurtured sentient beings, rescued those who suffered, served all buddhas, and distinguished the enlightened True Men; my merits accumulated so that they cannot be recorded. In ancient times, when Dīpaṃkara Buddha arose in the world, there was a sage king named Vijitāvin in the great kingdom of Padma. The people enjoyed longevity and joy, and all under heaven was in great peace. At that time I was a bodhisattva named Māṇava. From my youth I harbored intelligence and discernment; my aspirations were vast and comprehensive. I lived in seclusion amidst mountains and marshes, guarding the mystery and practicing dhyāna. Hearing that there was a buddha in the world, my heart was uniquely joyful. Donning deerskin garments, I set off wishing to enter the kingdom. Along the road I passed through a settlement, in which there were five hundred practitioners of the Way. When the bodhisattva passed through, through the entire day and night he discussed the Way and expounded its principles, so that master and disciples were all delighted. When they were about to part, each of the five hundred persons presented him with a silver coin, and the bodhisattva accepted them.

1.5

"Entering the city, he saw the people joyfully and hurriedly leveling and repairing the roads, sprinkling, sweeping, and burning incense. He thereupon asked a traveler: 'For what reason is this?' The traveler replied: 'Today the Buddha will come into the city.' The bodhisattva was overjoyed and thought to himself: 'How delightful! Today I shall get to see the Buddha; I must pray for my wish.'

1.6

"A moment later, a woman of the royal house passed by, named Gopikā, carrying a water pitcher and holding seven blue lotus flowers. The bodhisattva chased after her and called out: 'Elder sister, please stop! I ask to hire the flowers in your hand for one hundred silver coins.' The woman said: 'The Buddha is about to enter the city. The king has purified himself, bathed, and wishes to offer these flowers up; they cannot be obtained.'

1.7

"He entreated her again, saying: 'Sister, you can go and seek more.' He offered two hundred, then three hundred, but she would not consent. Thereupon he reached into his bag, took out all five hundred silver coins, and gave them all to her. Gopikā reflected that the flowers were worth at most a few coins, yet he offered five hundred; coveting his silver treasure, she gave him five stalks of flowers and kept two for herself. As they turned to part, her mind grew suspicious: 'What kind of practitioner of the Way is this, dressed in deerskin garments that barely cover his form, who does not begrudge his silver coins and treasure to obtain five stalks of flowers?' Delighted beyond measure, she chased after him and called out: 'Man! Tell me the truth, and you may keep these flowers; if not, I will take them back from you.' The bodhisattva looked back and said: 'Buying the flowers began from one hundred coins up to five hundred, and we settled the transaction ourselves; why should you seize them?' The woman said: 'I am of the royal house; I have the power to seize them from you.' The bodhisattva said sheepishly: 'I wish to offer them up to the Buddha, merely seeking my vow.'

1.8

"Gopikā said: 'Excellent! May it be that in my future lives I shall always be your wife, whether in beauty or ugliness never parting from one another. You must hold this in your mind and let the Buddha know it. Now, as a frail woman, I cannot go forward; please take these two flowers and present them to the Buddha on my behalf.' The bodhisattva consented to this.

1.9

"Presently the Buddha arrived. The king, ministers, and people all welcomed and paid homage to him, each scattering renowned flowers, and all the flowers fell to the ground. When the bodhisattva gained sight of the Buddha, he scattered the five stalks of flowers, and they all suspended in mid-air, directly above the Buddha as if rooted there, none falling to the ground. Afterward, he scattered the two flowers, and they also lodged on the Buddha's two shoulders. The Buddha, knowing his utmost intent, praised the bodhisattva, saying: 'For countless kalpas, what you have learned has been pure. Subduing your mind and renouncing your life, relinquishing desire and preserving emptiness, neither arising nor ceasing, with unattached compassion you have accumulated virtues and practiced vows; today you have attained it.' He then conferred a prediction upon him, saying: 'Ninety-one kalpas after this, the kalpa will be named Bhadra ["Worthy"], and you shall become a buddha named Śākyamuni (in the language of India, "Śākya" means capable, and "muni" means sage; its meaning is the Capable Sage).'

1.10

"Having received the words of prediction, the bodhisattva's doubts were dispelled and his yearnings ceased; instantaneously he was without discursive thought, and he entered serene concentration. He thereupon attained the pure forbearance of the non-arising of dharmas. At that moment he lightly rose into the air, ascending seven fathoms above the ground; coming down from above, he bowed his head to the Buddha's feet. Seeing the ground was muddy and wet, he took off his deerskin garment, wishing to cover it, but finding it insufficient to cover the mud, he untied his hair and spread it upon the ground, causing the Buddha to step upon it as he passed. The Buddha praised him again, saying: 'You are energetic and valiant. Later, when you attain buddhahood, you shall deliver all devas and humans in an age of the five defilements without regarding it as difficult, surely just as I do.'

1.11

"The bodhisattva served Dīpaṃkara until his Nirvāṇa. Upholding the precepts and protecting the Dharma, when his lifespan ended he was born in the first heaven as a Cāturmahārājika king. Having exhausted his heavenly lifespan, he descended to be born among humans as a flying wheel-turning holy king, an emperor—the seven treasures arrived of themselves: first, the wheel-treasure; second, the jewel-treasure; third, the dark blue horse-treasure with red mane and tail; fourth, the white elephant-treasure with red mane and tail; fifth, the woman-treasure; sixth, the wise-minister treasure; seventh, the holy-leader treasure—ruling for eighty-four thousand years. When his lifespan ended, he ascended to be born in the second heaven, Trāyastriṃśa, as Śakra, Lord of the Devas. When that lifespan was exhausted, he ascended again to the seventh heaven, Brahmaloka, as Brahmā King. In this way, ascending as lord of devas and descending as holy sovereign, thirty-six times each, round and round he cycled. As for his transformations, he manifested according to the times: sometimes as a sage emperor, sometimes as the foremost scholar, a state preceptor, or a practitioner of the Way; the places where he manifested and transformed cannot be fully recorded.

1.12

"Over ninety-one kalpas, the bodhisattva cultivated virtue, studied the mind of the buddhas, mastered the practices of the ten stages, and reached the position of one bound to one more birth. Later he was born in the fourth heaven, Tuṣita, as a teacher to all the devas, his merit accomplished, his aspiration fulfilled, his spiritual wisdom boundless. When the destined time arrived for him to descend and become a buddha, he entrusted his birth to the kingdom of Kapilavastu in India. His royal father was named Śuddhodana, intelligent, discerning, benevolent, and virtuous; his consort was named Māyā, chaste, righteous, gentle, and good. Kapilavastu is the center of the three thousand suns and moons and twelve thousand heavens and earths. The spiritual majesty of a buddha is supremely venerable and supremely weighty; he cannot be born in a borderland, for the earth would tilt and slant; thus he dwells in the center. Converting throughout the ten directions, all the buddhas of antiquity who arose came forth here.

1.13

"When the bodhisattva first descended, he magically rode a white elephant crowned with the essence of the sun. Because his mother was taking a daytime nap, he manifested in a dream, entering through her right flank. When the queen awoke from the dream, she knew herself to be pregnant. The king immediately summoned the chief diviner to interpret her dream. The divination said: 'Virtue returns here, the world shall receive its blessings, and she will surely conceive a holy son.' While the bodhisattva was in the womb, he was pure and free of any foulness. Thereupon, the ministers and kings of minor states, hearing that the great king's queen was pregnant, all came to present congratulations. From within the womb, the bodhisattva saw the outsiders bowing as though looking through fine gauze, and he secretly waved his hands to ward them off. His intention in waving them off was not wishing to trouble others. From the time the queen conceived, the devas offered food and drink, which arrived naturally each day; the queen received and enjoyed it without knowing where it came from, no longer partaking of the royal kitchen, which she considered bitter and acrid. When the night of the eighth day of the fourth month arrived, at the rising of the morning star, he was born through a transformation from the right flank, falling to the ground. He immediately walked seven steps, raised his right hand, stopped, and said: 'Above heaven and below heaven, I alone am venerable. The three realms are all suffering; what is there to be enjoyed?'

1.14

"At that time, heaven and earth shook violently, and within the palace it was completely bright. Brahmā, Śakra, and the spiritual devas all descended to attend him in mid-air. The four heavenly kings received him, placing him upon a golden desk, and with celestial fragrant water they bathed the prince's body. His body was golden in color, endowed with the thirty-two marks, and its radiance shone through, reaching up to the twenty-eight heavens and down to the eighteen hells; to the utmost limits of the Buddha's realm, there was nothing that was not brightly illuminated. On this day and night, heaven sent down auspicious responses of thirty-two kinds: first, the earth shook greatly and mounds and ruins all became level; second, the roads and lanes purified themselves and foul places turned fragrant; third, withered trees within the borders all bore flowers and leaves; fourth, orchards naturally produced rare and sweet fruits; fifth, lotus flowers as large as chariot wheels grew upon dry land; sixth, hidden treasures within the earth all emerged of themselves; seventh, precious items within vaults opened and appeared luminous and bright; eighth, clothes and quilts in trunks were displayed hanging on clothes racks; ninth, the myriad rivers and streams halted and became clear; tenth, the wind ceased, the clouds cleared, and the air became pure and bright; eleventh, from heaven on all four sides a fine rain brought fragrant moisture; twelfth, luminous moon-pearls hung within the palace halls; thirteenth, fires and torches in the palace were no longer used; fourteenth, the sun, moon, stars, and constellations all stood still without moving; fifteenth, the Puṣya star descended and appeared to attend the prince's birth; sixteenth, Śakra and Brahmā's jeweled canopy completely covered the palace above; seventeenth, spirits of the eight directions held treasures and came to offer them; eighteenth, celestial foods of a hundred flavors naturally appeared before them; nineteenth, ten thousand jeweled urns hung filled with amṛta; twentieth, celestial spirits pulled open-canopied carriages of the seven treasures and arrived; twenty-first, five hundred white elephant calves naturally lined up and stood before the palace; twenty-second, five hundred white lion cubs came out from Himavat and lined up at the city gates; twenty-third, celestial maidens appeared upon the shoulders of the singing-girls; twenty-fourth, daughters of the dragon kings stood encircling the palace; twenty-fifth, ten thousand celestial jade-maidens holding peacock-feather whisks appeared on the palace walls; twenty-sixth, celestial maidens holding golden vases filled with fragrant juice stood in ranks in mid-air to serve; twenty-seventh, celestial music all descended and sounded simultaneously; twenty-eighth, the hells all ceased and virulent pains ceased to operate; twenty-ninth, poisonous insects concealed themselves and auspicious birds soared and cried; thirtieth, fishermen, hunters, and those of bitter enmity all at once felt loving-kindness; thirty-first, pregnant women within the realm all gave birth to sons, while the deaf, blind, mute, crippled, and afflicted by the hundred diseases were all cured; thirty-second, tree spirits manifested as humans, bowing their heads and paying homage in attendance. At this time, everyone far and wide found it wondrous and marveled at what had never been before.

1.15

"The queen immediately wrapped him in white undergarments, and a wet-nurse held and nurtured him, giving him the name Siddhārtha. The king told the queen: 'The child born is extraordinary. In our state there is a practitioner of the Way named Asita, over a hundred years old, an elder of vast knowledge who is thoroughly versed in the method of physiognomy; may we now go together to have him examine the child's marks?' The queen said: 'Splendid!' They immediately harnessed white elephants, preceded and followed by musicians, and set out to visit the practitioner of the Way, offering him a bag each of yellow gold and white silver, but the practitioner of the Way would not accept them. Opening the undergarments, he examined the prince's marks and saw that he possessed the thirty-two marks: his body was golden; upon his crown was a fleshy protuberance; his hair was dark blue; between his brows was a white ūrṇā curl; behind his neck was a circle of light; his eyes were deep blue, blinking simultaneously above and below; in his mouth were forty teeth, white, even, and flat; his jaw was square and broad; his long tongue could touch seven places; he was full-chested like a lion; his body was upright and straight; his arms were long and his fingers slender; his heels were full and his soles flat and steady; he could grasp inwards and outwards with his hands; his palms and fingers were webbed; the thousand-spoked wheel markings were on his soles; his genitalia were retracted like a horse's; his calves were like an antelope's; his bones were interlocked like links of a chain; his body hairs curled to the right; from each hair-pore a single hair grew; his skin and hairs were delicate and soft, repelling dust and water; and upon his chest was a svastika. When Asita saw this, his sighs redoubled and tears flowed, so grieved that he could not speak."} ], "glossary": [ {"term": "賢劫", "en": "Bhadrakalpa"}, {"term": "悉達", "en": "Siddhārtha"}, {"term": "阿夷", "en": "Asita"}, {"term": "沸星", "en": "Puṣya"}, {"term": "賢鑒寶", "en": "wise-minister treasure"}, {"term": "聖導寶", "en": "holy-leader treasure"}, {"term": "交露車", "en": "open-canopied carriage"}, {"term": "万字", "en": "svastika"} ]}

1.16

"The king and lady were afraid, and bowing with joined hands, asked: 'Is there an ill omen? Please explain your meaning.' He raised his hand and answered, saying: 'It is auspicious and entirely without disadvantage! I venture to congratulate the Great King on obtaining the birth of this divine man. The great shaking of heaven and earth yesterday evening was precisely because of this. My physiognomical method says: "When a monarch begets a son who possesses the thirty-two marks of a great man, if he remains in the realm, he will be a cakravartin ruling over the four quarters of the world, to whom the seven treasures come of themselves; whenever he journeys, he can fly; arms and weapons are not employed, and peace prevails naturally. If he finds no joy in the world, and abandons his household to pursue the Way, he will become a spontaneous Buddha who delivers the myriad folk." I lament that my years are already late and declining, and that I must soon enter the next life, unable to witness the emergence of the Buddha or hear his sūtras; therefore I grieve for myself.'"

1.17

"The king, knowing well his skill in physiognomy, erected palaces for [the prince] and constructed halls for the three seasons, each in a different location—residing in an autumn hall during the rainy season, residing in a cool hall during the hot season, and residing in a warm hall during the cold, snowy season. He selected five hundred singing-girls, choosing those who were upright and handsome, neither fat nor thin, neither tall nor short, neither fair nor dark, clever and skillful in talents, each skilled in several arts; all were adorned upon their bodies with necklaces of white pearls and famous jewels. In turns of a hundred at a time, they rotated to stand night watch. In front of the halls were planted rows of sweet fruit trees, with bathing pools between the trees, and within the pools were rare flowers and strange kinds of birds by the hundreds and thousands, adorning and pleasing the sight to delight the prince's mind, not wanting to let him study the Way. The palace walls were strong and firm, and the sound of opening and shutting the gates was made to be heard for forty li. On the day the prince was born, the king's bondservants also gave birth to male servants, the stables brought forth a white colt and a yellow kid. The servant's name was Chandaka, and the horse's name was Kaṇṭhaka. Later, the king constantly had Chandaka attend and accompany him, and provided the white horse for him to ride."

1.18

"Just seven days after his birth, his mother's life came to an end. Because the merit and fortune of bearing the teacher of devas and humans were so great, she was reborn above in Trāyastriṃśa, naturally enjoying its entitlements. The Bodhisattva originally knew that a mother's virtue could not bear receiving his homage, and therefore, because she was about to end [her life], he was born from her."

1.19

"When he reached seven years of age, he sought to learn writing, and rode in a goat-drawn carriage to the teacher's gate. At that time, it was long since the sage had departed, and the texts were missing two characters. When he asked the teacher about them, the teacher could not understand, and on the contrary was enlightened by his intention. When he reached ten years of age, his wonderful talent became all the more apparent. The prince had two brothers who were the sons of his paternal uncle; the elder was named Devadatta, and the second was called Nanda. Although Devadatta possessed talent surpassing the age, which was naturally hard to match, he was nevertheless arrogant and constantly harbored feelings of jealousy. They invited [the prince] to play in the rear garden, affixed an iron drum as a target, and together drew strong bows to shoot at it. Every time the prince shot, he struck the center of the target and pierced the drum. The two were not his equal and considered it a disgrace. Much later, they again invited [him] to hand-to-hand wrestling before the king, stipulating that whoever lost would have water poured over him. The prince was benevolent; though he threw his cousins, he caused them no pain. Much later, the two again invited [him] to a test of strength. Nanda stepped forward, seized an elephant by the trunk, and dragged it into the courtyard. Devadatta, being strong, pulled it and threw it to the ground. The prince smiled, stepped forward slowly, caught the elephant, and lifted and hurled it outside the wall without causing it injury or death. Thereupon, the two realized they were no match for him; the king and his attendants came to know even more that he was out of the ordinary."

1.20

"When he reached fourteen years of age, he requested the king to go out on an excursion, wishing to observe activities [in the world]. The king commanded his attendants and the hundred officials to guide and accompany him. Just as he went out of the eastern gate of the city, the Lord of Devas transformed into a sick man, his body emaciated and his belly swollen, leaning against the gate wall and gasping for breath. The prince asked, saying: 'What kind of person is this?' His servant said: 'A sick man.' 'What is meant by being sick?' He replied: 'All illness arises from wind and cold, or heat or chill. This person must have eaten and drunk without restraint and had irregular sleep and rising; therefore he has contracted this disease.' The prince said: 'How suffering it is! Living in wealth and nobility, enjoying delicious food and drink, I too indulge without restraint; when sickness comes again, how will I differ from this?' He immediately turned his carriage back, sorrowfully reflecting that human life is subject to this affliction: 'Could it be that the mighty and powerful alone can be exempt?' Thereupon he grieved and did not eat, reflecting to himself that he could not bear this disease. The king asked his servant: 'When the prince went out on the excursion, was he not happy?' He replied: 'He encountered a sick man, and on this account was displeased.' The king immediately added five hundred singing-girls to entertain him day and night. The king's heart was sorrowful, fearing that he would study the Way. After several years, when he had recovered slightly, he again addressed the king: 'Confined in the palace, the days have been very long; I yearn to go out on an excursion.' The king could not bear to refuse, and warned the realm in advance: 'The prince is going out; do not let any diseased or impure things be beside the road.'"

1.21

"The prince mounted his carriage and went out of the southern gate of the city. The Lord of Devas again transformed into an old man, with white hair and a hunched back, leaning on a cane and walking feebly. The prince asked, saying: 'What kind of person is this?' His servant said: 'An old man.' 'What is it to be old?' He replied: 'When years are advanced and the faculties are ripe, the form changes and the complexion declines, food and drink do not digest, physical strength becomes hollow and feeble, sitting and rising are extremely arduous, and of the remaining life little is left; therefore it is called old.' The prince said: 'What joy is there? The sun and moon pass away, seasons alter and years shift; things are born in spring, and wither and dry in autumn and winter; old age arrives like lightning—how can the body be relied upon?' He turned his carriage back, taking pity on human life: 'Prime and vigor do not last long, there are old age and sickness, whose pain is hard to endure; I cannot long dwell in the world to bear this suffering,' and again he grieved and did not eat. The king regretted having let him go out, and again added five hundred singing-girls to entertain him."

1.22

"After several years, when he had recovered slightly, he again wished to go out on an excursion. The king said: 'Every time you go out sightseeing, you always return unhappy, merely grieving and growing emaciated; why go out again?' The prince said: 'I was merely thinking of their suffering; as my years increase it should improve.' The king commanded the realm: 'Do not let any old, sick, or impure things be beside the road.'"

1.23

"The prince mounted his carriage and went out of the western gate of the city. The Lord of Devas again transformed into a dead man, with the men and women of his household carrying banners, following the cart, weeping and sending him off. The prince asked again: 'What kind of person is this?' His servant said: 'A dead man.' 'What is it to be dead?' He said: 'To be dead is to come to an end. Lifespans have length and shortness; when merit is exhausted, life ends, breath is cut off and the spirit departs, and the physical form dissolves and fades away; therefore it is called dead. Humans and things are governed by a single principle: there is none born that does not end.'"

1.24

"The prince said: 'Death is painful indeed; the spirit suffers intensely! In life, there is bound to be this suffering of old age, sickness, and death; who does not burn within as it presses in upon them—is it not painful? I see that with the dead, the form is broken and the body transformed, but the spirit is not extinguished; following the good and evil deeds performed, misfortune and fortune pursue them naturally. Wealth and nobility are impermanent, and the body is a perilous fortress. Therefore, the sage constantly regards the body as an affliction; yet the foolish cherish it, never tiring of it until death. I cannot again receive birth through death, coming and going in the five destinies, exhausting my spirit.' He turned his carriage back, pitying that the world has these three sufferings, and in his grief could not eat. The king became even more unhappy, saying: 'The kingdom belongs to you, and you should govern people and affairs; why take distant anxieties to wear yourself out with suffering?' He again added five hundred singing-girls to entertain him."

1.25

"When the prince reached seventeen years of age, the king took a consort for him. He inspected several thousand renowned maidens in the realm, but none suited his mind. At last there was a maiden named Gopikā, upright, handsome, pure, and foremost in the world; her worthiness and talent surpassed others, and her propriety and righteousness were fully accomplished—she was the flower-selling maiden from his previous life. Although the prince took her, he did not consort with her for a long time. The woman's disposition wished to draw near to him. The prince said: 'If we constantly obtain fine flowers, place them between us, and look at them together, would that not be fine?' Gopikā then prepared fine flowers and wished again to approach him. The prince said: 'Remove these flowers; their sap will stain and dirty the bed mat.' Much later, he said again: 'If we obtain fine white cotton, place it between us, and the two of us look at it, would that not also be fine?' The woman then prepared the cotton, and again wished to draw near. The prince said: 'Keep your distance; you have impurities and will surely soil this cotton.' The woman did not dare draw near. The serving maids at their side all harbored suspicions, thinking he was incapable as a man. The prince pointed his finger at his consort's belly and said: 'After six years, you will give birth to a boy.' Thereupon she became pregnant."

1.26

"Thereupon the prince again requested an excursion. Going out of the northern city gate, the Lord of Devas again transformed into a śramaṇa, wearing Dharma robes and holding an alms bowl, looking at the ground as he walked. The prince asked, saying: 'What kind of person is this?' His servant said: 'A śramaṇa.' 'What is meant by a śramaṇa?' He replied: 'I have heard that the śramaṇa's practice of the Way consists of abandoning household, wife, and children, casting aside love and desire, severing the six emotions, and upholding the precepts in non-action. His way is pure, and one who attains one-pointedness of mind eradicates the myriad evils. The way of one-pointedness of mind is called an arhat. An arhat is a true person; sounds and forms cannot defile him, glory and position cannot bend him, he is immovable like the earth, has already escaped grief and suffering, and is at ease in life and death.' The prince said: 'Excellent! Only this is delightful.' He immediately turned his carriage back. He fasted, reflected, and did not eat, thinking: 'The Way is pure and it is not fitting to remain at home; I should dwell in the mountains and marshes, investigating essence and practicing meditation.' Gopikā suspected his mind and knew he wished to depart, so in sitting and rising she did not leave his side. When he reached nineteen years of age, on the night of the eighth day of the fourth month, a deva crossed his hands at the window and addressed him, saying: 'The time to depart has come!' The prince looked up and answered, saying: 'Pressed by guards and attendants, wishing to leave, there is no way.' The deva thereupon cast a spell of stupor over his wife and the singing-girls, causing them all to lie down and sleep."

1.27

"The prince rose slowly, listened to his wife's breathing, and saw the singing-girls all like wooden figures, their hundred joints completely empty, just like plantain trees. Among them, some had disheveled hair leaning against drums; some lay sprawled across lutes; some used one another as pillows, their arms and legs drooping to the floor, snot and tears flowing from their eyes, and saliva running from their mouths. Lutes, zithers, zheng, and flutes, musical instruments lay scattered crisscross; the night-herons, mandarin ducks, and other watchful creatures were all sound asleep. The prince surveyed them all, and turning back, looked at his wife, seeing fully the physical body: hair, nails, marrow, and brain; bones, teeth, and skull; skin and flesh; sinews, vessels, fat, and blood; heart, lungs, spleen, and kidneys; liver, gallbladder, intestines, and stomach; feces, urine, snot, and spittle. Outwardly a leather bag, inwardly containing foulness, with nothing that could be admired. It is merely perfumed with incense and adorned with flower-like colors. Just as a borrowed thing must be returned and cannot be kept for long, so in a lifespan of a hundred years, half is wasted in sleep; furthermore, there is much grief and affliction, and its pleasure is meager. Sensuality ruins virtue and makes people foolish; it is not praised by the Buddhas, pratyekabuddhas, or true people. Therefore it is said: "Greed and lust lead to old age; anger and hatred lead to sickness; ignorance and folly lead to death. Only by eliminating these three can one attain the Way."'"

1.28

"Having single-mindedly contemplated this, [the Prince] then rose and gazed at the star Puṣya. The night was more than half spent. He saw the devas joining their palms above, urging the Prince to depart. He immediately called Chandaka, quietly ordered him to saddle the horse, hitched up his garments, and mounted it. Pacing back and forth in the courtyard, he considered that opening the gate would make a sound. The Heavenly King Vaiśravaṇa had long known his intention, and immediately dispatched ghosts and spirits to hold up the horse's hooves and receive Chandaka as well, leaping over the palace walls and reaching the shade of a jambu tree in the royal fields. The next day there was great commotion in the palace, for no one knew where the Prince was. Thousands of chariots and tens of thousands of horsemen pursued in continuous succession. The King personally arrived at the fields and saw the Prince in the distance, sitting beneath the tree. The sun shone fiercely, yet the tree bent its branches, following and shading his body. Startled, the King awoke to this and came to know his spiritual power; before he could dismount to pay homage, the Prince also stepped forward, bowed, and said: 'Since becoming your son, I have rarely left the kingdom. Now that I have come here just this once, why should the Great King have wearied himself by coming? I pray you return in good time. The reason I now wish to leave the world is that from what I have seen, affection and love are like a dream; family joys must all end in separation. Greed and desire are a prison from which escape is hard to find. Therefore it is said: "Shielding oneself with the net of desire, covering oneself with the canopy of love, one binds oneself in prison, like fish entering the mouth of a creel; watched over by old age and death, like calves seeking their mother's milk." I have constantly awakened myself to this, wishing to seek the spontaneous and desiring to eliminate all suffering. Those who are not yet crossed over, I wish to cross over; those who are not yet liberated, I wish to liberate; those who are not at peace, I wish to bring peace to; those who have not seen the Way, I wish to bring to attain the Way. Therefore I wish to enter the mountains to pursue what I seek. When I attain the Way, I will return, never forgetting this vow.'"

1.29

"The King, knowing his resolve was firm, was at a loss for words. He returned to the palace on his own and said to Gopikā: 'Such is my son's mind, pure and immoveable like the earth. He takes no pleasure in wealth or nobility and does not yearn for the world. He desires only the Way, and is determined to attain it.'"

1.30

"Thereupon, the Prince took hold of a tree branch and saw plowers turning up the soil, bringing out insects, and crows following behind to peck at and swallow them. Pained with grief for sentient beings, like fish gnawing on each other's scales, [he saw that] the merciless cause ever greater harm, and upon dying fall into the evil destinies, finding escape exceedingly difficult. Although the devas enjoy bliss, it too is impermanent: when merit is exhausted they feel dread, and when retribution arrives they are terrified; misfortune and fortune follow one another, and their saṃsāra is exceedingly long. Observing the human world up to the twenty-eighth heaven, though one's nobility may be supreme, if one lacks the Way, one stands face to face with the gates of hell. In the three evil destinies, the bitter pain is of a hundred kinds; joy and pleasure are momentary, but anxiety and dread are prolonged. Between heaven and earth, there is nothing admirable; I can no longer be deluded by desire."

1.31

"He immediately rose, mounted his horse, and led Chandaka forward for several tens of li. Suddenly he saw the great spirit presiding over the five destinies, named Benzhi, who was the most singularly unyielding and mighty. In his left hand he held a bow, in his right he grasped an arrow, and at his waist he wore a sharp sword. He resided at the crossroad of the three paths: the first was called the deva path, the second the human path, and the third the three evil paths. This is the place through which the souls and spirits of the dead must pass. When the Prince arrived, he asked: 'Which path is to be followed?' Benzhi, terrified and trembling, cast down his bow, dropped his arrows, unbuckled his sword, stepped back, and pointed to the deva path, saying: 'This is the path to follow.'"

1.32

"Having traveled several tens of li, he met two hunters. The Prince thought to himself: 'I have already abandoned my home to dwell in these mountains and marshes; I should not, like an ordinary person, wear precious garments, displaying an air of desire.' Thereupon he took off the precious robe from his body and exchanged it with a hunter for a deerskin garment. Coming forward, he dismounted from the horse and sent Chandaka back. Chandaka knelt upright and said: 'Now that I have followed the Great Deva, I cannot return alone.' The Prince said: 'You may go straight back. Report to the Great King on high and take leave of my wife. I now seek the Great Way of the unconditioned; do not worry about me.' He then took off his jeweled crown and the clothes he wore, giving them all to Chandaka. Thereupon the white horse bent its knees and licked his feet, its tears falling like linked pearls. Chandaka wept with grief, crying as he followed the road. Looking back at the Prince, he saw he was already clad in the deerskin garment, changed in attire, and departing."

1.33

"Chandaka walked, leading the horse back. Everyone in the palace, within and without, was disheartened and sorrowful. Gopikā wept aloud and threw herself down from the hall, saying: 'I longed for the Prince as one who is thirsty desires water. Why have you and the horse now returned alone and empty-handed?' She came forward, embraced the horse's neck, and asked where the Prince was. Chandaka said: 'The Prince reported to the Great King on high and took leave of his wife: "I now seek the Great Way of the unconditioned; do not worry about me."' Gopikā cried aloud, saying: 'How wretched is my fate, that while alive I have lost the one who is my heaven! Where is he now? Where shall I seek him?' Caressing the horse's back, she said: 'The Prince rode you forth; why have you returned alone?' The people of the entire kingdom all sobbed and wept. The King moaned in grief, tears streaming down. He said to Gopikā: 'Just as my son perceived, the suffering of old age, sickness, and death is truly a great affliction. He is a divine being. On the day he was born, the Lord on High descended in person, ten thousand gods stood guard, and auspicious signs and radiant marks appeared such as the world has never seen. The physiognomist Asita said: "If he takes no joy in the world and leaves home to practice the Way, he will certainly become a spontaneous Buddha and cross over all the people." Now that he has renounced [the world] to study the Way, is it not spontaneous?'"

1.34

"The King, wishing to comfort Gopikā's mind and also deeply moved himself, immediately selected several thousand eminent and worthy men of the kingdom. Choosing those with heavy burdens and many sons and grandsons, he took five men and granted them an audience. The King said: 'You hold your grown sons and embrace your grandsons at home; do you alone experience joy? I have one son who had never stepped out the door; one morning he abandoned me to journey far into deep mountains, through hazardous valleys and ravines. Who can know the perils of good and ill fortune, or the suffering of cold, heat, hunger, and thirst? I must trouble you five men: each send one son to pursue and seek him, and upon finding him, they must follow and attend him. If anyone abandons him midway and returns, I will exterminate your clans.' Thereupon, Ajñāta-Kauṇḍinya and the other four men received the command to pursue the Prince. Catching up with him in the deep mountains, they followed and attended him for several years. The Prince did not speak with them, but walked on as before, climbing mountains and ridges, and traversing deep valleys. The five men found this hard to bear and said: 'This is merely a madman! What Way does he possess? He walks without choosing a path; how can we follow him? If we abandon him and return, the King will exterminate our families; it is better to remain here.' Where the five men remained, there was a fine spring, and sweet fruits were not lacking."

1.35

"The Prince departed on his own, crossing over renowned mountains and passing through the territory of Magadha. King Bimbisāra had gone hunting and saw the Prince in the distance, walking among the mountains and marshes. He immediately joined with his elders and ministers to pursue and meet him. The King said: 'At the Prince's birth there were many wondrous signs, and your physical marks are brilliant and distinct. You ought to rule the four continents as a cakravartin; the four seas look up to you with longing, hoping for the divine treasures to arrive. Why have you abandoned the heavenly throne and banished yourself to the mountains and thickets? You must have some extraordinary insight. I wish to hear your aspiration.' The Prince replied: 'According to what I have seen, of all beings between heaven and earth, wherever there is birth there is death. There are three extreme sufferings—the pains of old age, sickness, and death—from which there is no escape. Considering the body to be a vessel of suffering, one's anxieties and dreads are immeasurable. If one abides in high honor and favor, pride and indulgence arise; greedy pursuit of pleasure brings disaster to the world. This is what I abhor, and therefore I wish to enter the mountains to cultivate my aspiration.' The elders said: 'Old age, sickness, and death are indeed the common lot of the world. Why should you alone grieve in advance, abandoning an exalted title to live in seclusion and concealment, wearying your body? Is this not difficult?'"

1.36

"The Prince replied: 'It is as you gentlemen say: one should not grieve in advance. If I were king and old age arrived, sickness came, and death were imminent, could someone take this distress upon themselves in my place? If there is no one to take my place, how could I not grieve! Although in the world there are compassionate fathers and filial sons whose love penetrates to the bone and marrow, when sickness and death arrive they cannot take each other's place. With regard to this counterfeit body, on the day suffering arrives, though one may occupy an exalted throne with one's close kin at one's side, it is like holding up a candle for a blind man—what benefit is it to one who lacks eyes? I observe all conditioned formations: everything is impermanent; all is transformational and unreal; there is little joy and much suffering; the body is not one's own; the world is empty and vain, and one cannot remain long. Where things are born, there is death; where matters succeed, there is failure; where there is safety, there is danger; where there is gain, there is loss. All things are in turmoil, and all must return to emptiness. The conscious spirit has no physical form; agitated and defiled, it lacks clarity. One's actions bring about the distress of birth and death, not merely to be undergone once. Only because of greed and desire are beings covered in the net of delusion and submerged in the river of birth and death, unable to awaken. Therefore, with single-mindedness I wish to contemplate the four empty purities, transcend form and extinguish anger, sever seeking and contemplate emptiness, being without bias or aversion. This will be returning to the source and going back to the root, extirpating its very origin. If my wish is fulfilled, then there can be great peace.'"

1.37

"King Bimbisāra rejoiced and said: 'Excellent! The Bodhisattva's aspiration is wondrous, rare in the world. When you surely attain the Buddha Way, I pray that you cross me over first.' The Prince silently departed. As he was about to cross the Nairañjanā River, a deva halted the current, causing the riverbed to dry up temporarily. The Prince crossed the river, traveled several tens of li, and saw three brāhmaṇas, each with their disciples, dwelling separately beside a stream. Approaching them, he inquired about their path. They proclaimed: 'We serve Brahmā, revere the sun and moon, perform fire sacrifices daily, and hold water alone to be purifying.' The Bodhisattva replied: 'This is merely the path of birth and death! Water is not perpetually full; fire is not long hot; the sun rises and then moves; the moon waxes and then wanes. The Way lies in pure emptiness—how could water make a person's mind pure?' Pained by this, he departed. As he walked, he gave rise to loving-kindness, comprehensively contemplating sentient beings in their senility and obstinate foolishness, unable to escape sickness and the pain of death and mourning; wishing to liberate them, he unified his mind and gave rise to compassion. Pitying all who suffer from the afflictions of hunger, thirst, cold, heat, gain, loss, sin, fault, and adversity, wishing to bring them security and peace, he unified his mind and gave rise to sympathetic joy. Contemplating all the worlds as having the afflictions of anxiety, suffering, terror, and misfortune, wishing to bring them tranquility, he unified his mind and gave rise to equanimity. Desiring to cross over the living beings of the five destinies and eight difficulties who are ignorant, covered in darkness, and do not see the right path, he resolved to accomplish their rescue and enable them to attain the unconditioned. Unifying his mind, he did not rejoice when encountering good nor grieve when meeting evil; abandoning the eight worldly conditions—gain and decline, disgrace and honor, praise and blame, suffering and pleasure—he was not swayed by them."

1.38

"Having passed through deep mountains, he reached a secluded and quiet place, where he saw a patra tree, all around pristine and pure. He thought to himself: 'I have already abandoned my family. Being in these mountains and marshes, it is not fitting that I still dress my hair according to worldly ways. If thoughts of combs, hot water, and washing arise, I would lose the pure precepts, right concentration, wisdom, liberation, and the view of liberation; this is not the purity of the Way and defiles pure practice. I should become a śramaṇa according to the bodhisattva's method.' A god offered him a razor, his beard and hair fell away on their own, and the god received them and departed. The bodhisattva then gathered withered grass to spread upon the ground, sat upright upon this base, joined his palms, closed his eyes, and single-mindedly vowed: 'Even if my flesh and bones wither and rot here, if I do not become a Buddha, I will never arise!' The god offered him food, but he refused to accept any of it. The god caused wild hemp and grain to grow beside him; each day he ate one hemp seed and one grain of rice to sustain his vital energy. Sitting upright for six years, his body grew emaciated, skin and bone clinging to each other, yet his spirit was profoundly pure, tranquil, and clear, silently concentrated in single-mindedness. Internally he contemplated ānāpāna: first counting, second following, third stopping, fourth observing, fifth returning, and sixth purifying; roaming through the three and the four, issuing forth through the twelve gates, with no dispersed thoughts. His spiritual powers were subtle and wondrous; casting away desires and unwholesome states, he no longer had the five hindrances, and did not receive the five sensory desires. All evils subsided on their own, his discernment was sharp and distinct, and his contemplation attained the unconditioned, just as a valiant warrior triumphs over his enemies; his mind became pure, accomplishing the practice of the first dhyāna. His mind opened in understanding on its own, casting aside passionate and lustful thoughts, with no remaining evil to reform, no longer calculating or viewing, with conceptual thought already extinguished. Just as with a spring atop a mountain, the water issues forth from within and overflows without, while valley rains and floods have no way to enter; tranquil, guarding oneness, joyfully immovable, he accomplished the practice of the second dhyāna. He further cast away thoughts of joy, witnessing only non-desire; external likes and dislikes could not enter at all, nor did any arise within; his mind was upright and his body at ease. Just as the root of a lotus is in the water, its blossom closed and not yet opened, its roots, stems, branches, and leaves soaked in water; seeing truth through purity, he accomplished the practice of the third dhyāna. Casting aside thoughts of pain and pleasure, without notions of sorrow or joy, his mind leaned neither toward good nor toward evil, resting precisely in the middle; like a person who has bathed clean and is covered with fresh, fine white cloth, pure inside and out, without blemish within or without, breathing spontaneously subsided, serene and unchanging, he accomplished the practice of the fourth dhyāna. Just as a potter blends clay smoothly and softly without grit or pebbles, and can fashion whatever vessel he pleases, his vigorous cultivation opened up, leaving nothing impossible; having attained concentrated focus, he did not abandon great compassion, and with wisdom and skillful means thoroughly penetrated the essential subtleties, mastering the practices of the thirty-seven factors of awakening—namely the four foundations of mindfulness, the four right efforts, the four bases of spiritual power, the five faculties, the five powers, the seven factors of awakening, and the eightfold path—cycling through them without end, free from any blemish. His mind was set upon the three directions: first, directed toward emptiness, conceptual thoughts extinguished and undispersed, without grasping or discarding; second, directed toward signlessness, the mind concentrated and unarising, not contemplating likes or dislikes; third, directed toward wishlessness, taking no delight in the three realms, no longer giving rise to suffering. Thereupon he attained the three deliverances: first, detachment from lustful desire; second, detachment from ill will; third, detachment from delusion, no longer obstructed in any way.

1.39

"At this, in the sixth Heaven of Transformation by the Voice of Others, the Demon King of that heaven saw that the bodhisattva was pure and desireless, meditating with unflagging diligence. His mind became afflicted and vexed; he found no taste in his food and drink and took no pleasure in music. He thought: 'If this Way is accomplished, he will surely surpass me greatly. I must ruin his aspiration for the Way before he becomes a Buddha.' The Demon's son, Sādhu, stepped forward to admonish his father, saying: 'The bodhisattva's practice is pure, peerless throughout the three realms; having attained natural spiritual powers, hundreds of millions of all the Brahmās and devas go to pay homage and attend upon him. This is not someone the Heavenly King should thwart or ruin; do not give rise to evil and diminish your own blessings.' The Demon King would not listen and summoned three jade maidens: the first named Desiring Consort, the second named Pleasing Others, and the third named Joyful Sight, sending them to corrupt the bodhisattva's mind. The three women were dressed in gossamer garments, adorned with divine famed perfumes, necklaces, and jewels, using extremely seductive and alluring words, seeking to bewilder his mind. The bodhisattva's mind was pure, like a lapis lazuli jewel that cannot be soiled. The three maidens spoke to him again, saying: 'Your benevolence and virtue are supreme, revered by all the gods; you ought to receive offerings, and therefore Heaven presents us to you. We are pure and graceful, in the prime of our youth, and among the heavenly maidens none surpass us. We wish to serve and attend upon you morning and night.'

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