English (machine translation)

Translation of 付法藏因緣傳

Language: English
Extent: 75 passages, 43,629 words
Text: complete digital text
Source: pramana-mt · Machine translation by Gemini 3.8 Flash (2026-10-21) of in.bauddha.taisho.2058 · Machine output without human authorship: no copyright is claimed (CC0 1.0). The original text keeps its own…

1 — 19 parts
2 — 15 parts
3 — 13 parts
4 — 13 parts
5 — 5 parts
6 — 7 parts

Text

1.1

Translated by the Western Regions' Tripiṭaka Master Kiṅkara together with Tanyao under the Northern Wei.

1.2

I revere and bow to the boundless,
Past, future, and present Buddhas,
Whose immovable wisdom is equal to space,
The Greatly Compassionate Honored Ones who save the world.

Formerly, for the sake of sentient beings, the Bhagavat sought the supreme path throughout immeasurable kalpas. He accomplished all kinds of difficult and austere practices, relinquishing his beloved body, head, eyes, marrow, brain, kingdoms, cities, wife, children, palaces, ministers, and concubines. He cast himself from cliffs, threw himself into fires, and had his body sliced and cut. At times, for the sake of a single four-line verse, he flayed his skin for paper, broke his bones for pens, and used his blood for ink to write it out in offering, inquiring of and studying under wise teachers, receiving [teachings] from the Buddhas. Grieving for living beings, he toiled modestly to accumulate merit. Practicing myriad virtuous deeds, he made vast vows, as fully recounted in the five hundred Jātaka tales. When his original training was complete and he was on the verge of attaining correct awakening, he sat cross-legged beneath the Bodhi tree. The Māra of the sixth heaven felt deep sorrow and malice, thinking, “If he attains the path, he will surely surpass me.” He then led his official retinue of eighteen trillion to the foot of the king of trees, saying to the Bodhisattva, “You should quickly arise right now and return to your palace. If you do not, I will seize your feet and hurl you beyond the great ocean.” At that time, like a lion king, the Bodhisattva’s mind was without fear or dread. He declared, “Pāpīyas, you once made an offering to a single Pratyekabuddha and observed the eight-precept fast; through this merit, you became a heavenly king. Yet throughout asaṃkhyeya kalpas, I have fully accomplished difficult and austere practices. On the great earth, there is not even a space the size of the tip of a needle that was not a place where I practiced austerities in the past. Even if Māra’s hosts were as numerous as the sands of the Ganges, they could not shake a single hair of mine. How could you now hope to hurl my body beyond the great ocean?” Māra said again, “That I became lord of heaven by giving to a Pratyekabuddha in the past—this matter is clear. Now as for what you have said, what proof is there?” Thereupon the Bodhisattva extended his hand and pointed to the ground, saying, “This deity knows me.” At that time, the earth deity leapt forth from the diamond circle, joined her palms, and addressed him, “It is truly as the Honored One has taught. Since this earth has existed, I have been its deity. On this earth, there is not even a space the size of the tip of a needle that was not a place of the Bodhisattva’s past practice.” Hearing these words, Māra tumbled and fell. Having defeated the army of Māra, [the Bodhisattva] attained the supreme, correct awakening. His three knowledges shone uniquely, and his six supernormal knowledges were unhindered. Endowed with great compassion and inexhaustible eloquence, whatever he expounded, everyone believed and received. He proclaimed the subtle, wondrous Dharma to rescue and deliver living beings. Just as whatever a diamond strikes is smashed and destroyed, so too is the Tathāgata’s teaching: it can destroy the afflictions and fetters of living beings. Wandering throughout countries, villages, and towns, he extracted the poisonous thorns of the multitudes with the pure Dharma, subdued non-Buddhists, erected the banner of supreme victory, closed the gates to the evil destinies, and opened the path to nirvāṇa. As his condition for transforming [beings] was nearing its end and he was about to enter extinction, he addressed his great disciple Mahākāśyapa: “You should now know that for immeasurable asaṃkhyeya kalpas, for the sake of sentient beings, I diligently practiced austerities, with single-minded focus seeking the supreme, unsurpassed Dharma. My past vows have now been fulfilled. Kāśyapa, you should know that just as dense clouds fill the world and shower sweet rain so that sprouts grow, so too does the unsurpassed rain of the Dharma enable sentient beings to increase the seeds of good roots. For this reason, the Buddhas constantly guard, respect, praise, bow to, and make offerings to it. As I am now about to enter parinirvāṇa, I entrust this profound Dharma to you. Hereafter, you should reverently comply with my intention, widely propagating and circulating it so that it is never cut off.” Kāśyapa addressed [the Buddha], “Excellent! I accept your instruction. I shall uphold the true Dharma in this way, so that future generations will equally receive its benefit. May the World-Honored One have no anxiety about this.” Therefore, after the Tathāgata entered extinction, Mahākāśyapa subsequently proclaimed the correct teaching, compiled the Buddha’s Dharma-treasury, and transformed sentient beings, such that those he delivered never regressed. That great Kāśyapa’s wisdom was profound and vast, his reputation was universally heard, and his merits were complete. I shall now recount his practice and vows accordingly. Long ago in the past, after Vipaśyin Buddha had transformed sentient beings, he entered parinirvāṇa. The fourfold assembly of disciples all felt grief and longing. Collecting the śarīra, they erected a seven-jeweled stupa, its mast ornaments exceptionally wondrous and fine. At that time, within that stupa was an image of the Tathāgata, and on its face the golden color was slightly damaged in places. At that time, there was a poor woman who went about begging. Having obtained a golden bead, she felt joy in her heart and wished to make a gold leaf to repair the face of the image. At that time, Kāśyapa was a goldsmith. The woman took it to him and engaged him to repair it. When the goldsmith heard it was for merit, he gladly worked on it. After the polishing and ornamentation were completed and it had been used to repair the face of the image, they made a joint vow: “May the two of us always be husband and wife, our bodies of genuine golden color, constantly experiencing supreme joy.” By this causal condition, for ninety-one kalpas their bodies were of genuine golden color, and they were born among humans and devas enjoying boundless bliss. Lastly, he was reborn in the seventh Brahmā heaven. At that time in Magadha, there was a brāhmaṇa named Nyagrodha. In past lives he had long cultivated supreme deeds; he possessed superior talent, broad erudition, and profound wisdom. He had abundant wealth and treasures, immense and boundless: gold, silver, lapis lazuli, mother-of-pearl, jade, cattle, sheep, fields, residences, slaves, and carriages, a thousand times superior to those of the king of Magadha. At that time, King Bimbisāra had one thousand gold plows. Fearing that being equal to the king would incur offenses, that brāhmaṇa had one less, possessing only nine hundred ninety-nine. In his house there was fine cotton cloth, the lowest quality of which was worth a hundred thousand ounces of gold. When struck with an iron nail seven feet into the ground, the cloth was not pierced or torn, remaining just as before. Such was his wealth through the power of merit. Although he was rich in wealth and treasures, he had no son. Considering that he was old and decayed and the time of his death was approaching, with no one to entrust the storehouses of goods to, he went to pray to a tree deity beside his house for the sake of seeking a son. After years had passed, there was no sign or response at all. At that time, [Nyag]rodha became extremely angry and said to the tree deity, “I have served you for years now, yet I have not seen you grant a single blessing in response. Now I will serve you with utmost sincerity for seven days. If there is still no sign of efficacy, I will surely burn and chop you down.” Hearing this, the tree deity became very sorrowful and terrified, and reported this matter in detail to the Four Heavenly Kings. Thereupon the Four Kings went and reported it to Śakra. Śakra observed that within Jambudvīpa there was no person of merit capable of becoming his son, so he immediately went to Brahmā and widely proclaimed the above matter. At that time, Brahmā, viewing with the divine eye, saw that there was a Brahmā deva whose life was about to come to an end, and told him, “If your spirit is to descend, you should be born in the house of that brāhmaṇa in the realm of Jambudvīpa.” The Brahmā deva replied, “The ways of brāhmaṇas are full of evil and wrong views. I cannot become his son now.” Brahmā said again, “That brāhmaṇa has great authority and virtue; no ordinary person in Jambudvīpa is capable of being reborn there. If you are born there, I will protect you and never allow you to enter into wrong views.” The Brahmā deva said, “Yes, I reverently obey the noble command.” Thereupon Śakra told this matter to the tree deity. Delighted, the tree deity immediately went to his house and said to the brāhmaṇa, “Do not harbor hatred toward me anymore. Seven days from now, your wish will be fulfilled.” When the seven days were up, his wife realized she was pregnant. After full ten months, she gave birth to a boy. His features were upright and handsome, his body was of genuine golden color, and his brilliant radiance shone for one yojana. A physiognomist divined: “This child has past merit and great authority and virtue; his aspirations are pure and far-reaching, and he does not covet worldly affairs. He will surely leave home and attain the fruit of non-attachment.” Although young in years, his mind and thoughts were pure; he practiced loving-kindness and gave generously, had few desires and was content, and constantly contemplated worldly pleasures as impermanent, perilous, and fragile, never giving rise even momentarily to thoughts of affection or craving. At that time, seeing him like this, his parents were very distressed and said to each other, “When this boy was born, the physiognomist divined that he would surely leave home. Now what means can we devise to cut off his intention?” Reflecting again, [they thought], “In the world, what one can become attached to is only beautiful form. We should select a fair and good match for him to cut off his intention.” When he reached the age of fifteen, they wished to betroth a wife to him. Hearing of this, Kāśyapa felt deep distress and said to his parents, “My aspirations are pure; I have no need for a wife.” This happened three times, but his parents would not listen. Thereupon Kāśyapa, knowing that the matter was unavoidable, devised a skillful plan and told his parents, “If you can obtain for me a golden woman whose beauty surpasses the world, only then will I open my mind to accept her. If you cannot obtain one, I will never marry.” At that time, because they respectfully cared for him, his parents did not oppose his words. They immediately summoned various brāhmaṇas and dispatched them to travel through the realms: “If there is a woman whose body is of genuine golden color, dignified, and extraordinary, betroth her for me.” The brāhmaṇas then conferred together and cast gold into a human form of extraordinary appearance. Together they carried it on a litter and toured the villages, proclaiming with a loud voice, “If any woman sees this golden deity and bows down in offering, in the future she will surely attain subtle wisdom and a body of genuine golden color.” Hearing this, all the women came out to bow in reverence. At that time, there was a woman whose facial features were magnificent, her body purple-golden, her nature gentle and compliant, and her wisdom profound. She was precisely the woman with the golden bead from the past. Owing to that past supreme condition, she possessed this wondrous body. Her resolve was firm, and she alone did not go outside. All the women asked her why she did not go out. She replied to them, “Sisters, my mind is at leisure and quiet, and I do not desire other wishes; therefore I do not go out.” At that time, the women forced her to go and view the golden deity. This woman’s radiant light and graceful appearance completely overshadowed the golden deity so that [its radiance] was no longer visible. The brāhmaṇas immediately betrothed her [to him], and [the families] agreed, setting a date to complete the marriage. Hearing of this, that woman was also very distressed. Her resolve could not be followed, and she was married off. When the two faced each other, each of their intentions was pure and serene. Although husband and wife, they had no desire whatsoever. Together they established an agreement, saying, “We should now each have separate rooms and not disturb or approach each other.” When the parents learned of this matter, they immediately ordered people to remove one room, forcing them to share the same quarters, and emptied the room, placing only a single bed inside. Thereupon Kāśyapa made another agreement with his wife: “In this room now, there is only one bed; by principle, the two of us cannot sleep together. If I rest in sleep, you should do caṅkrama; if you lie down to sleep, I should do caṅkrama.” Later, in the middle of the night, it was Kāśyapa’s turn to walk. His wife was sleeping at the time, her hand hanging down before the bed. From outside, a venomous snake entered through the door, intending to bite his wife. With compassion, Kāśyapa immediately stepped forward slowly, wrapped his hand in his robe, and lifted [her hand] onto the bed. His wife was startled awake and rebuked him, saying, “Now, as a gentleman, how can you lack resolve like this? We made a vow together agreeing not to approach each other; now for what reason did you secretly lift my hand?” Kāśyapa replied, “I did not approach you with thoughts of lust. A snake entered from outside, aiming to bite you. Fearing that you would be harmed, I merely lifted your hand.” The venomous snake was still there, and he immediately showed it to her. His wife then understood. Thereupon the husband and wife developed a deep aversion to the realms of existence and took no pleasure in them, just as a person who has washed clean takes no pleasure in dirt and dust. They went to their parents seeking to leave home. Having received permission, they became śramaṇas, pure and adhering to simplicity, doing nothing and having no desires, diligently cultivating austerities in quiet seclusion. Thereupon Kāśyapa made this vow: “Whosoever in the world has become an arhat, to all of them I take refuge.” Having spoken these words, all the precepts and the deportment of leaving home were fully completed. When the Tathāgata attained all-knowledge and proclaimed the wondrous Dharma in Rājagṛha, Kāśyapa, wearing rag robes, came to the Buddha’s place, bowed his head in reverence, stood with palms joined, and said to the Buddha, “World-Honored One, I now take refuge in the unsurpassed coolness. May you compassionately accept me and permit me among the lowest ranks.” The World-Honored One praised him, saying, “Welcome, Kāśyapa!” and immediately shared half his seat, bidding him to sit down. Kāśyapa said to the Buddha, “I am a disciple of the Tathāgata’s final ranks; having been looked upon with favor and offered half the seat, I dare not comply with the command.” At that time, the assembly all felt doubt, saying, “What extraordinary virtue does this old śramaṇa have, that the Heavenly Honored One shares his seat and bids him [sit]? This person's superiority is known only to the Buddha.” Thereupon the Tathāgata, knowing the thoughts in the minds of the assembly and wishing to resolve their doubts, proclaimed Kāśyapa’s profound and vast practice. The World-Honored One further said, “All the great loving-kindness, great compassion, four dhyānas, samādhis, and immeasurable merits with which I adorn myself—the monk Kāśyapa is also like this. Furthermore, long ago in the past, there was a holy king named Mandhātṛ, whose superior talent surpassed the world and whose wisdom was peerless. At that time, Śakra, admiring his virtue, sent a seven-jeweled chariot to the palace gates to welcome the king. Riding the heavenly chariot, [the king] flew through the sky and went there. The heavenly lord came out to welcome him and sat together with him. After enjoying each other’s company, he sent the king back to his palace.” The Buddha told the monks, “The heavenly lord of that time is now Kāśyapa, and King Mandhātṛ was myself. In the past, Kāśyapa offered me a seat of birth-and-death to sit together; therefore today, having attained the unsurpassed path, I repay his original merit with the seat of the true Dharma.” At that time, the World-Honored One taught the Dharma appropriately to Kāśyapa, instructing, encouraging, and delighting him. Just as clean, white cotton cloth easily takes dye, he immediately attained arhatship upon his seat, with the threefold vision, six supernormal knowledges, and complete eight liberations. With superior talent and vigor, his appearance and demeanor were calm and dignified. He constantly sat opposite the Tathāgata expounding the Dharma, and at that time the devas and humans considered him a teacher of the World-Honored One. Thereupon Kāśyapa took leave of the Tathāgata and went to the Pippala cave on Gṛdhrakūṭa Mountain. That mountain had many flowing springs and bathing ponds; the forests were lush, and flowers and fruits were abundant; hundreds of beasts gathered, and auspicious birds soared and cried; gold, silver, and lapis lazuli were strewn over the ground. Kāśyapa performed caṅkrama and meditated there, expounding the wondrous Dharma and delivering sentient beings. Later, when the World-Honored One was on the verge of entering nirvāṇa, he emitted a supreme light and the great earth shook. [Kāśyapa] then thought, “Could it be that the Tathāgata wishes to enter nirvāṇa and is manifesting these signs?” He immediately entered samādhi and observed with the divine eye, seeing the World-Honored One beside the Hiraṇyavatī River abandoning his lifespan with his entire body. Having observed this, he was grieved and unhappy: “How swift is the Tathāgata’s nirvāṇa! The eye of the world is extinguished, and unwholesomeness will increase.” Then, surrounded before and behind by his retinue, he headed toward the city of Kuśinagara to pay homage to the World-Honored One. On the road ahead, he saw a brāhmaṇa holding a māndārava flower in his right hand. Kāśyapa asked him, “Where have you come from? Do you know our teacher?” He replied, “I know him. He entered parinirvāṇa seven days ago. All humans and devas made great offerings. I obtained this flower from there.” When the monks heard these words, they were all deeply grieved and threw themselves to the ground, wailing and sobbing with tears falling like rain. They all said, “Alas! Impermanence has such great power, able to destroy such a mass of jewel-like merit, drying up the ocean of Dharma and toppling the banner of Dharma! The world is in darkness, having forever lost its great light. All sentient beings have nothing to venerate; the evil destinies will increase, and devas and humans will decrease. How extraordinary is impermanence, deeply to be reviled! Just like a flash of lightning, by principle it does not stay long. Impermanence is swift and difficult to rely upon. It can destroy prime youth, physical appearance, strength, and lifespan, obliterating all the joys and affections of the world. Fools rely upon it, but the wise do not!” Thereupon Kāśyapa and the monks proceeded forward to between the twin trees, circumambulated the coffin three times, bowed their heads in reverence, and spoke verses.

1.4

Transcendent is the vehicle across the three realms, / crossing forever the stream of birth and death;
quiescent, free of mark or wish, / subtle, wonderful, hard to conceive.
The Buddha-sun is supremely bright and pure, / able to dispel the darkness of ignorance;
amassing kalpas of ascetic practice, / he vowed to cross over all suffering people.
Why then at this present time / do you cast aside great loving-kindness and compassion,
your whole body resting in the golden coffin, / quiescent and motionless?
We only pray that the Honored One of gods and humans / will reveal his golden body,
causing all the assembly everywhere / to give rise to boundless vows.

1.5

At that time, from within the thousand layers of fine cotton cloth inside the golden coffin, the World-Honored One brought forth his golden feet. Their radiance shone brilliantly like the midday sun. The coffin and the cloth remained undamaged, yet his feet were manifested. When the great assembly saw this, their sorrow and distress redoubled, and they wailed and choked with sobs. Then Kāśyapa bared his right shoulder, bowed his head to the feet in veneration, and spoke verses again, saying:

1.6

The Tathāgata's ankles are full, / the thousand-spoked wheel marks appear;
his toes are slender, long, and soft, / complete with webs of joined netting.
With great compassion he rescues all living beings, / severing the world's doubts and fetters.
Therefore today I / bow my head to his most supreme feet.
I have realized the four noble truths, / and praise the Buddha's mass of merits;
having offered praise and reverence, / it is fitting that you draw your feet back in.

1.7

Then Kāśyapa instructed the wrestlers to wrap the Buddha's body once more with a thousand layers of fine cotton cloth, pour fragrant oil over it, and close the coffin lid. They heaped up sandalwood fuel to cremate the Tathāgata. Seeing the fire, Ānanda wept with grief, choked with sobs, wailed, and lamented, speaking verses, saying:

1.8

How terrible is impermanence! / Truly to be feared and dreaded!
It can extinguish such / a treasure-heap of merit!
This body of the World-Honored One, / pure and free from defilement,
now in a golden coffin, / wrapped in a thousand layers of fine cotton,
poured over with fragrant oil, / burning on sandalwood fuel—
where now is / that subtle, wondrous, supreme body?

1.9

Then Kāśyapa extinguished the fire with milk and praised [the Buddha] in verse, saying:

1.10

A thousand layers of cotton wrapped his body, / and the fire burned it;
by the Buddha's supernormal power, / the single innermost garment remained,
and the outer layer also did not burn; / only those in the middle were entirely consumed.
This supreme supernormal power / is inconceivable.

1.11

After Mahākāśyapa had spoken these verses, he addressed the monks: "The Buddha has already been cremated. The World-Honored One's śarīra are not our affair. Why is this? The kings, elders, ministers, and householders, seeking the most supreme merit, will naturally make offerings to them. We should compile the eye of the Dharma, so as not to let the torch of the Dharma quickly be extinguished, but to serve as illumination for future generations and make the Three Jewels flourish and continue without interruption." Then Kāśyapa and the monks went to the Pippala Cave in Rājagṛha. King Ajātaśatru had attained rootless faith, and after the Tathāgata entered extinction, the ministers consulted together, all saying: "The Great King's faithful mind is like a vast sea, transcending all the worlds of humans and gods. If he hears that the World-Honored One has entered nirvāṇa, boiling blood will surely gush from his face, his body will fall apart, and his death will not be far off. What method should we devise to spare him this disaster?" At that time there was a minister named Varṣākāra, whose wisdom was deep and broad, and who was skilled in expedients. He made a bronze pool several fathoms across and filled it to the brim with pure fragrant oil, causing King Ajātaśatru to sit in this pool. Furthermore, on fresh, clean, white cotton cloth, he had painted images of the Tathāgata's past deeds: namely, the Bodhisattva transforming himself to ride a white elephant down from the Tuṣita Heaven to enter his mother's womb; his father named Śuddhodana and his mother named Māyā; staying in the womb for a full ten months before being born; before he touched the ground upon birth, Śakra receiving him; the dragon kings Nanda and Upananda spouting water to bathe him; the great spirit king Māṇibhadra holding a jeweled parasol and attending behind him; the earth deity manifesting flowers to support his feet; his walking seven full steps in each of the four directions; his reaching the divine shrine and causing the statues of all the gods to rise in welcome; the rṣi Asita holding him to examine his marks; having examined his marks, giving way to great sorrow and lamenting that he would die and not behold the Buddha's arising; his going to a teacher to study writing, arts, and divination; his dwelling in the inner palace with sixty thousand palace women, making merry and enjoying pleasures; his going out of the city on an excursion to the Kapilavastu park; his seeing on the road an old man and an ascetic; his returning to the palace and seeing the palace women looking like dry bones, and all the palace halls no different from tombs; his disgust, his leaving home, and his leaping over the city walls at midnight; his going to the great rṣis Udraka-Rāmaputra, Ārāḍa-Kālāma, and the others; his hearing them expound the sphere of consciousness and the sphere of neither-perception-nor-non-perception; having heard this, his deep and thorough contemplation, knowing them to be impermanent, suffering, impure, and non-self; his abandoning them to undergo six years of ascetic practice beneath a tree, and his knowing then that this suffering could not attain the Path; and his going again to bathe in the Nairañjanā River.

1.12

At that time there were two cowherd women who, wishing to make an offering to a spirit, milked a thousand cows and fed the milk to five hundred cows, and so on progressively down to a single cow; then they took its milk and boiled it to make rice gruel, which surged up nine feet high without spilling a single drop. A brāhmaṇa asked them: "Sisters, for whom are you boiling this gruel?" The women replied: "To make an offering to the tree spirit." The brāhmaṇa said: "What spirit could possibly receive this food? Only one who eats it and achieves all-knowledge can receive an offering such as yours." Thereupon the women offered it to the Bodhisattva, who accepted and ate it. Only after this did he proceed to the foot of the Bodhi tree, conquer the demon Pāpīyas, attain the most complete enlightenment, first turn the wheel of the Dharma for the five monks in Vārāṇasī, and finally proceed to the birthplace of the wrestlers in the city of Kuśinagara to enter parinirvāṇa. All such images were painted. The king asked his ministers, "What are you making?" They replied, "Great King, we are painting images of the Tathāgata's merits." Next, they came to the change in form of the World-Honored One's extinction. The king was astounded, his hair stood on end, and he gave rise to deep sorrow and yearning, longing for the Tathāgata. One-fifth of the oil in this pool suddenly flowed into the king's body, just as when a sun-baked brick is thrown into a large pool, the water naturally soaks in; so it was with him. Through this cause, his life was preserved intact. King Ajātaśatru's faith and reverence were so deep, and his yearning for the Tathāgata was like this. Hearing that Kāśyapa had arrived, he was overjoyed. He adorned the roads, burned incense, and scattered flowers, and rode a white elephant himself to go out and welcome Kāśyapa. In the past, whenever the king saw the Buddha, he would cast himself down from his elephant to pay reverent homage; seeing Kāśyapa, he did likewise. Mahākāśyapa caught him with supernormal power so that he suffered no injury, and then told the king: "The Buddha's power is supreme and unlike that of the śrāvakas; a śrāvaka has supernormal abilities only when entering samādhi. Henceforth, when you see me, do not cast yourself down from your elephant." The king said, "I respectfully obey." He then said to Kāśyapa: "The World-Honored One entered nirvāṇa, and in the end I did not see him. If the Venerable One is to enter extinction, I pray that you will surely inform me." Kāśyapa said, "Very well." He then addressed the king, saying: "The Tathāgata, the World-Honored One's wisdom is deep and far-reaching; he was able to extinguish the blazing fire of living beings' three poisons, and wither the great tree of the twelve links of dependent origination. All gods and people in the world received benefit. Now that he has entered nirvāṇa, the eye of the world is extinguished; birth, old age, sickness, death, sorrow, grief, decay, and affliction—such sufferings will become even more fierce. I wish to make the illumination of wisdom for them and, together with the monks, compile the Buddha's Dharma-treasury. The King should now prepare the requisites for offerings." The king said, "Excellent! May the holy ones constantly accept my offerings." Thereupon Kāśyapa said to Aniruddha: "Among the arhats, who has not come?" Aniruddha said: "Gavāmpati is in the Śirīṣaka Palace and has not yet arrived here." At that time Kāśyapa told Revata: "You may go to that Śirīṣaka Palace and tell Gavāmpati: 'Great Kāśyapa and the others now have monastic business; it is essential that we meet.'" Then Revata flew through the air to go there and related the matter in full. At that time the venerable one asked Revata: "Where is the World-Honored One, that you speak of Kāśyapa?" Revata said: "The Buddha has entered nirvāṇa. The Dharma bridge has collapsed; the Dharma mountain has crumbled; the Dharma lamp has been extinguished; the time of darkness has arrived." Gavāmpati lamented: "How bitter! The world is now empty and void. King Pāpīyas the demon will now rejoice! Deluded, foolish living beings are veiled by ignorance, wandering in birth and death and submerged in the demon's net; the World-Honored One of Ten Powers pulled them out. Now that he has entered nirvāṇa, they have no rescue or protection forever. How lamentable! Living beings are deeply pitiable!" He told Revata: "Bow your head to Kāśyapa and the other holy ones on my behalf, and speak as I say: 'Gavāmpati addresses Great Kāśyapa: If the World-Honored One were present, I would go there to bow and make offerings. Now he has entered nirvāṇa; the world is empty and void. Looking upon Jambudvīpa, there is not a single thing worthy of delight. Just as when a great dragon king has abandoned his body, the young dragon will surely follow, so it is with me: I now wish to enter nirvāṇa.'" Having spoken these words, he immediately entered extinction. In this way, when various people heard that the Buddha had entered extinction, they all entered nirvāṇa. Kāśyapa proclaimed: "Before we have compiled the Dharma-treasury, do not enter nirvāṇa!" Then the monks asked Great Kāśyapa: "What Dharma should be compiled first?" Kāśyapa replied: "The sūtras first." They also asked: "Who should be made to compile the sūtras?" Great Kāśyapa said: "The monk Ānanda has heard much, retains what he has heard, and possesses great wisdom. He constantly followed the Tathāgata with pure brahmacarya. In the final Dharma, he will benefit and bring peace to the Saṅgha. He is endowed with knowledge and vision and was praised by the Buddha. It is fitting that he be made to compile the sūtras." Then Kāśyapa told Ānanda: "You may now expound the eye of the Dharma." Ānanda said, "Yes." He contemplated the minds of the assembly and spoke a verse, saying:

1.13

"The monks and retinue, / separated from the Buddha, are unadorned, / just as in empty space, / the multitude of stars lacks the moon."

1.14

Having spoken this verse, he bowed to the feet of the Saṅgha, ascended the Dharma seat, and spoke these words: "Thus have I heard. At one time the Buddha was dwelling in the ancient hermits' abode in the Deer Park at Vārāṇasī, turning the wheel of the Dharma for the first time for the five monks, namely the noble truth of suffering..."—and so he expounded at length. When he had spoken these words, the five hundred arhats soared into empty space and proclaimed in a loud voice: "How astonishing! Impermanence is exceedingly swift, like a rapid river that rushes away and never returns. Formerly we beheld the World-Honored One with our own eyes, but now we only hear it said!" They all wept and spoke verses, saying:

1.15

"Alas, the suffering of all existences, / fluctuating like the moon in water, / unsubstantial like a plantain tree, / also like an illusion, an echo, or a shadow! / The Tathāgata, the Great Hero, / whose merits transcend the three realms, / was still swept away by the wind of impermanence, / drifting without stopping."

1.16

After the five hundred arhats had spoken these verses, they returned to their original seats. At that time Kāśyapa asked the monks: "Is what Ānanda spoke not erroneous?" They all said: "It is no different from what the World-Honored One taught." Thereupon Kāśyapa ordered Upāli to compile the Vinaya Pitaka. Kāśyapa himself compiled the Abhidharma Pitaka. Having compiled the Dharma-treasury, Mahākāśyapa spoke verses, saying:

1.17

"With this honored wheel of the Dharma, / rescue all kinds of living beings.
What the Honored One of Ten Powers has taught / should all be diligently practiced.
This Dharma is a bright lamp / capable of destroying all darkness.
Worthy ones, you should uphold it; / be careful never to give way to heedlessness."

1.18

At that time, Kāśyapa entered the samādhi of knowledge through vow and contemplated whether the Dharma he had compiled had any omission or deficiency. Having finished reflecting, he knew it was entirely complete, and then had this thought: “The Tathāgata, the Great Master, is my spiritual friend; he benefited and brought welfare [to me] just as a mother loves her child. Now, by using the Dharma to benefit my fellow practitioners of the religious life and displaying it for future generations out of great compassion, I desire to cause the Great Dharma to spread without interruption, only now repaying the Tathāgata's benevolence. My years are decrepit, and my body is broken by old age; this foul and rotting physical frame is utterly loathsome. Impermanent, precarious, and ruinous, it cannot be relied upon, and is constantly tormented by diverse sufferings. What wise person could delight in such a body? It is fitting that I now enter parinirvāṇa.”
He further reflected: “I should now visit, pay homage to, revere, and make offerings at every place where the wondrous śarīras—imbued with the boundless pure and wholesome merit of the Bhagavat Buddha, the true spiritual friend of great benevolence and great compassion—are present.”
He then flew into the sky to the four stūpas, paying homage and making offerings; he further went to the eight stūpas with utmost reverence. Like a king of geese flying to Sāgara’s palace in the great ocean to revere the Buddha’s tooth relic, or like a strong man bending and extending his arm, in an instant he arrived at the Trāyastriṃśa heaven. Śakra Devānām Indra and the celestial assembly came forth to welcome Kāśyapa, paying homage and making offerings. Mahākāśyapa said to Śakra: “I desire to enter nirvāṇa; having come here to pay homage to the Tathāgata's hair relic, I have arrived.” Hearing these words, Śakra Devānām Indra felt dejected, wept, and grieved. He personally retrieved the Buddha's hair relic and respectfully presented it to Kāśyapa. Having received it, Kāśyapa paid homage with utmost devotion and made offerings with ox-head sandalwood. When the offerings were complete, he addressed the devaputras: “The five desires are impermanent and cannot be preserved for long; they are like dew upon a flower, evaporating as soon as it meets the sun. Only wholesome Dharma is deeply to be desired. You should contemplate suffering and emptiness, and take care not to be heedless.” Having spoken these words, he vanished from that heaven and returned to Rājagṛha.
Ānanda followed him closely, never leaving his side, fearing that [Kāśyapa] might enter nirvāṇa without his being able to see him. After a short while, Mahākāśyapa said to Ānanda: “Go into the city alone; I too shall go.”
At that time, Kāśyapa put on his robes, took his bowl, and entered Rājagṛha, thinking to himself: “King Ajātaśatru previously made a pact with me, saying, ‘When you enter nirvāṇa, you must come see me.’ Should I now go and inform him?” Reaching the king’s gate, he said to the gatekeeper: “Tell the king for me that Mahākāśyapa is now outside the gate wishing to see him.”
The gatekeeper said: “The king is currently asleep. If I wake him, I fear I will incur punishment.”
Kāśyapa said to him: “When the king awakes, tell him properly: ‘Mahākāśyapa wished to enter nirvāṇa, and came to bid farewell to the king; not seeing you, he departed.’”
Thereupon Kāśyapa went to Mount Kukkuṭapāda, sat cross-legged upon a grass mat, and made this vow: “May this body of mine, wearing the rag-robes given by the Buddha and holding my own bowl, remain undecayed until the time of Maitreya, so that his disciples may all behold my body and give rise to revulsion [toward worldly existence].” He further thought: “If King Ajātaśatru does not see me, boiling blood will burst from his face and his life will not be spared. If that king comes with Ānanda, the mountain shall open for them to let them enter; when they depart, it shall close again.”
He then relinquished his life-formations, retaining only a small lifespan. Immediately, the great earth shook in six ways. Śakra Devānām Indra and the devaputras, using māndārava flowers and celestial powdered incense, made offerings to the śarīra and gave rise to great grief and anguish, saying: “Our longing since the Tathāgata's extinction has not yet ceased, and Kāśyapa's nirvāṇa adds to our grief. The Pippala cave is now desolate. Those in the alleys and lanes who are destitute, tormented, and frail, poor, exposed, and solitary—he always took pity on them; now that he has abandoned them and departed, who will shelter and protect them? Just as on the fifteenth day, when the sky is cloudless, the moon and the host of stars appear clearly in the void, so too was the Tathāgata's holy assembly: abiding in the world, they were like the stars and the moon. How could the cloud of impermanence and death suddenly arise, concealing in a single morning the supreme field of merit?” In this way the devas gave rise to extreme grief; broken by sorrow, wailing and weeping in anguish, they restrained one another and returned to heaven.
King Ajātaśatru, while lying asleep, dreamed that the roof-beam of his house snapped. He immediately awoke with a start, his heart filled with terror. The gatekeeper reported to the king: “Mahākāśyapa wished to enter nirvāṇa and came to bid farewell to the king. It coincided with your resting in sleep; he had me convey his regards and then turned back.” When the king heard this, he fell to the ground in a faint. Only when cold water was sprinkled on his face did he regain consciousness. Raising his voice in loud lamentation, tears filling his eyes, [he said]: “How meager are my blessings, and how thick are my defilements and obstructions! At the nirvāṇa of the holy ones, I did not witness a single one.”
He went at once to the Bamboo Grove, bowed at Ānanda's feet, and asked: “Has Kāśyapa passed into extinction?”
Ānanda answered: “He has already entered nirvāṇa.”
“Where is he now? I wish to make offerings.”
Thereupon Ānanda and King Ajātaśatru set out for Mount Kukkuṭapāda. When the king arrived, the mountain opened of itself. Kāśyapa was inside, his whole body intact, covered by māndārava flowers. Seeing this, the king cried out weeping and threw himself to the ground. He gathered various fragrant woods, intending to cremate him. Ānanda asked: “What do you intend to do?”
He replied: “I intend to burn him.”
Ānanda said: “Mahākāśyapa has stabilized his body through concentration to await Maitreya; he cannot be burned. When Maitreya appears, he will lead an assembly of nine billion six hundred million to this mountain to see Kāśyapa. At that time, Maitreya’s assembly will all think: ‘The disciples of Śākya Tathāgata were of such small and base stature; that Buddha too must have been no different.’ Thereupon Kāśyapa will leap into the void, display the eighteen miraculous transformations, and transform into a vast form filling the world. Then Maitreya Buddha will approach Kāśyapa and take the saṅghāṭī robe. At that time, seeing his supernatural power, the great assembly will eliminate their pride and become arhats.”
After making offerings, the king returned to his own country. Then Mount Kukkuṭapāda closed again as before.

1.19

Account of the Transmission of the Dharma-treasury, Fascicle One

2.1

Translated by Kiṅkara together with Tanyao, Tripiṭaka masters of the Western Regions, under the Northern Wei

2.2

When Mahākāśyapa was nearing nirvāṇa, he entrusted the supreme Dharma to Ānanda, speaking these words: "Elder, you should know: formerly the Bhagavat entrusted the Dharma to me. I am now old and decrepit, and am about to enter nirvāṇa. The supreme eye of the world I now wish to entrust to you. You must diligently guard and protect this Dharma." Ānanda said, "Yes, I respectfully accept your instruction." Thereupon Ānanda proclaimed the wonderful Dharma and transformed living beings. In past lives he had possessed great merit, his wisdom was deep and vast, and his learning extensive and penetrating. Praised by the Buddha as foremost in retention (dhāraṇī), he was fully able to hear and receive the Dharma-treasury of all Buddhas, just as the great ocean receives the hundred rivers. His renown was lofty and far-reaching, known to all. Such merit cannot be exhausted. I shall now set forth its causes and conditions. In ancient times, an asaṃkhyeya of kalpas ago, at the time of Dīpaṃkara Tathāgata, there was a śramaṇa who kept a śrāmaṇera. He constantly had him recite [texts], admonishing and commanding him day and night without rest or cease. If his recitation fell short even slightly, he would immediately scold him. At that time, this śrāmaṇera begged food on behalf of his master. If he lingered even slightly and did not fulfill his quota of recitation, he would be severely reviled by his master. Thereupon the śrāmaṇera was greatly distressed; begging food for his master, he would recite as he walked. At that time, an elder was surprised by this and questioned him. The śrāmaṇera answered, saying, "My master is stern and strict, requiring me to recite and practice. If I linger while begging food, I cannot fulfill my quota. For this reason, I recite whenever I walk." The elder answered, saying, "Do not be worried or distressed. From now on, I shall constantly provide for you; you should diligently recite and practice the scriptures." Then this śrāmaṇera no longer went begging, but recited single-mindedly. From that time on, his recitation was always sufficient. At that time, the śrāmaṇera was the World-Honored One, and the elder who gave food was Ānanda. Because of this auspicious condition, the monk Ānanda possessed deep and wonderful wisdom, strong memory in retention, and learning so vast and broad that it cannot be measured. When the Bhagavat attained the unsurpassed Way, he proclaimed the wonderful Dharma and transformed living beings. Thereupon Ānanda reflected to himself: "The world is a prison that cannot be loved or enjoyed. The five desires are like phantoms, without any solid reality; they are exceedingly terrifying and vile, worse than poisonous serpents. Prime vigor, strength, and fair countenance are all ravaged by old age and sickness. Impermanence is swift as a raging torrent, swallowing and destroying all gatherings of love and affection. The kings of old, possessed of majestic virtue and sovereignty, were blown down and destroyed by the wind of impermanence. Grief, sorrow, decline, and distress—all sufferings follow one another in succession. The rākṣasī of affection constantly deceives living beings. How can I escape this peril?" He also thought: "The Tathāgata, the World-Honored One, has divine wisdom that transcends the world. Originally from the Śākya clan, he went forth from household life to learn the Way. I should now go and become his disciple." He immediately went to the Buddha's place, pleaded piteously, and asked to go forth. The Buddha said, "Welcome!" and he became a śramaṇa. At that time the Tathāgata preached the Dharma for him—namely, discourses on giving, discourses on morality, and discourses on birth in heaven—and that desires are impure and that leaving them is the supreme good. Ānanda's mind was immediately opened and he became a srotāpanna. Later, when the Buddha was considering having an attendant, Kauṇḍinya at that time went to the Buddha's place and asked to be his attendant. The Buddha said, "Kauṇḍinya, you are old and advanced in years and need someone to look after you; how could you serve as my attendant?" In this way, the five hundred great disciples all went to the Buddha's place and asked to be his attendant, but none were permitted; bowing to the Buddha, they withdrew. At that time, Maudgalyāyana, using his knowledge of others' minds, saw that the Tathāgata's mind was set upon Ānanda, like the sun at its first rising casting its light upon the western wall. Together with the monks, he told Ānanda, "The Buddha needs you, venerable one, to be his attendant. You should swiftly go and pay homage to the Supreme Awakened One." Ānanda said, "The Tathāgata's majestic virtue is like a great dragon. I am defiled and weak, and dare not accept this command." The monks said, "Ānanda, you should know that the World-Honored One's mind is devoted solely to you, venerable one. You should swiftly pay homage; you must not delay long." Ānanda respectfully consented, and thereupon made three requests: "May the Tathāgata's old robes not be given to me; may any leftover food be bestowed upon others; and may the timing of approaching [the Buddha] be at my own discretion. If these three requests are granted, then I shall receive the instruction." Then the monks went to the World-Honored One's place, prostrated themselves in homage, and reported the above matters in full. The Tathāgata praised him, saying, "Excellent, Ānanda! He possesses great wisdom and knows well what is timely and appropriate. Not only today, but in the distant past it was also thus. Listen well, all of you; I shall proclaim it. Long ago, in an asaṃkhyeya of kalpas past, there was a king who ruled the world and dwelt in the city of Vāśī. In this city was a brāhmaṇa named Kurudha. Intelligent and well-versed, his natural talent transcended the world; the people and householders of the kingdom all revered him. He was abundant in wealth and treasures—hundreds of thousands of myriads of koṭis—yet, having no son to succeed him, he was constantly grieved. He prayed to the deities for twelve years. His principal wife then became pregnant; when the months and days were fulfilled, she gave birth to a boy, whose body was purple-golden and whose appearance was upright and handsome. A physiognomist divined: 'This child has meritorious virtue.' They then gave him the name Mahādāna ('Great Giving'). As he grew older, he asked his father for permission to go out on an excursion. His father then ordered the roads to be adorned and swept, incense burned, flowers scattered, and various musical entertainment performed. Mahādāna then went outside to tour and view. On the road ahead he saw a beggar wearing ragged clothes, speaking in a humble voice and pleading for pity. Mahādāna asked, 'Why are you like this?' The beggar answered, 'I was originally destitute and alone, pressed by sickness and suffering. Driven by the urgency of life and body, I therefore beg.' Hearing this, Mahādāna sighed in sorrow: 'How pitiable are the kinds of living beings! Ignorance obstructs their minds, and they sink into the five desires. Harassed and harmed by old age, sickness, and death, yet within this they find easy and carefree joy. Not cultivating good karma, they suffer this evil fruit. How strange! It is a great peril, exceedingly terrifying!' Moving forward a little further, he saw butchers and hunters trapping birds with nets, and tilling the soil and fishing, causing widespread slaughter and harm. Mahādāna asked, 'Why are you like this?' The people answered, 'Since the time of our grandfathers and fathers, we have always engaged in this occupation. We rely on this to sustain life and also to provide the king's corvée. If we abandon it one day, we will immediately fall into poverty.' Hearing this, Mahādāna felt even deeper grief and sorrow. He then reflected to himself and gave rise to great compassion: 'Alas! Living beings are foolish and lack the eye of wisdom. Having long accumulated sinful karma, they are destitute, emaciated, and weak, dwelling in great darkness, exceedingly terrifying. Now they again create such evil karma, killing living beings and severing other lives dear [to them]. Evil karma increases and non-virtue thrives; revolving in the five destinies, how can they find a way out? I should now use skillful means to rescue and protect them, bringing coolness to the burning distress of birth and death.' Having had this thought, he entered the great ocean and went to the palace of the dragon king to seek the wish-fulfilling jewel (cintāmaṇi). He saw a golden city of dazzling radiance, surrounded by poisonous serpents so that it could not be approached. He immediately entered the samādhi of loving-kindness, stepped over them, and passed. The dragon king came out to welcome him, bowed in reverence, and after exchanging greetings of comfort, they entered the palace together. [The dragon king] asked, 'Venerable one, for what purpose have you come here?' Mahādāna answered, 'Because of poverty, the people of Jambudvīpa cause extreme slaughter and harm, and at the end of their lives they will surely be born in the three evil destinies. Pitying them, I have traversed dangers to come here, seeking the wish-fulfilling jewel in order to deliver them from their suffering. May you be pleased to bestow it, so as to benefit living beings.' The dragon king said, 'Splendid! I shall not oppose your teaching. I ask only that you stay for a short while and preach the Dharma for me.' Mahādāna consented and stayed for four months, explaining the names, origins, and ends of all dharmas, and sequentially expounding the meaning and phrasing. With an earnest mind, the dragon king listened, received, and contemplated them; his inquiries about Mahādāna's daily life were always timely and appropriate, and the timing of approaching him was left to his own discretion. When the four months had passed, Mahādāna took his leave. The dragon took the jewel from his topknot and gave it to him, and made this vow: 'The great being's loving-kindness and compassion are exceedingly broad and vast; you will surely attain spontaneous, correct awakening. May I become your foremost disciple in learning!' Thereupon Mahādāna used the wish-fulfilling jewel to rain down the seven precious things. All the people of Jambudvīpa were at peace and happy; they practiced the ten virtues, and at the end of their lives they were born in heaven. Monks, you should know: at that time, Mahādāna was myself, and the dragon king of that time was Ānanda. Even among dragon kings he knew what was timely and appropriate, how much more so now could he not be thoroughly versed? Thereupon Ānanda served as the Tathāgata's attendant, being well able to comply and adapt; he retained what he heard of the Dharma-treasury without the slightest loss. When the World-Honored One was in the Grove of Twin Trees nearing parinirvāṇa, he asked Kauṇḍinya where Ānanda was. [Kauṇḍinya] replied, 'He is now outside the Śāla Grove, being harassed by the hosts of Māra, deep in the net of wrong views and experiencing great suffering and distress. Except for the Buddha, the Tathāgata, no one can rescue and protect him.' Mañjuśrī said to the Buddha, 'World-Honored One, in this great assembly there are bodhisattvas who, through immeasurable kalpas, have given rise to the bodhi-mind, long cultivated vows and practices, and attained non-retrogression. Such as these are well able to uphold the Dharma-treasury of all Buddhas. For what reason do you ask where Ānanda is?' The Buddha told Mañjuśrī, 'The monk Ānanda has served me for a long time without the slightest fault. He is fully endowed with what is inconceivable; the Dharma he has heard he is well able to uphold, just like pouring water from one vessel into another. He is looked up to in common by all living beings; therefore I ask where Ānanda is. He is now twelve yojanas away from this assembly, harassed by the hosts of Māra. Take my spell and go there to release him.' Mañjuśrī immediately went to the place of Māra and uttered the dhāraṇī. When Māra heard this, he released Ānanda at once. Together with Mañjuśrī, he came to the Buddha's place, prostrated himself in homage, and sat to one side. At that time, in the middle of the latter part of the night, the World-Honored One entered parinirvāṇa. All the devas and humans made great offerings; wrapping him in fine muslin, they cremated him (jhāpita). When these matters were entirely concluded, Mahākāśyapa and all the arhats wished to assemble the eye of the world at Rājagṛha. Ānanda was at that time still in the stage of learning (śaikṣa); because his outflows were not yet exhausted, he did not take part among the noble assembly. At that time, there was a monk named Vajjiputta who enlightened him with a verse:

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