The Acts of the Buddha 5.4

5.4

爾時鞞舍離，諸離車長者，
聞世尊入國，住菴摩羅園。
有乘素車輿，素蓋素衣服，
青赤黃綠色，其眾各異儀。
導從翼前後，爭塗競路前，
天冠袞花服，寶飾以莊嚴，
威容盛明曜，增暉彼園林。
除捨五威儀，下車而步進，
息慢而形恭，頂禮於佛足，
大眾圍遶佛，如日重輪光。
離車名師子，為諸離車長，
德貌如師子，位居師子臣，
滅除師子慢，受誨釋師子。
「汝等大威德，名族美色容，
能除世憍慢，受法以增明，
財色香花飾，不如戒莊嚴。
國土豐安樂，唯以汝等榮，
榮身而安民，在於調御心。
加以樂法情，令德轉崇高，
非薄土群鄙，而能集眾賢。
當日新其德，撫養於萬民，
導眾以明正，如牛王涉津。
若人能自念，今世及後世，
唯當脩正戒，福利二世安。
為眾所敬重，名稱普流聞，
仁者樂為友，德流永無疆。
山林寶玉石，皆依地而生，
戒德亦如地，眾善之所由。
無翅欲騰虛，渡河無良舟，
人而無戒德，濟苦為實難。
如樹美花果，針刺難可攀，
多聞美色力，破戒者亦然。
端坐勝堂閣，王心自莊嚴，
淨戒功德具，隨大仙而征。
染服衣毛羽，螺髻剃鬚髮，
不脩於戒德，方涉眾苦難。
日夜三沐浴，奉火修苦行，
遺身穢野獸，赴水火投巖。
食菓餌草根，吸風飲恒水，
服氣以絕糧，遠離於正戒。
習斯禽獸道，非為正法器，
毀戒招誹謗，仁者所不親。
心常懷恐怖，惡名如影隨，
現世無利益，後世豈獲安？
是故智慧士，當修於淨戒，
於生死曠野，戒為善導師。
持戒由自力，此則不為難，
淨戒為梯隥，令人上昇天。
建立淨戒者，斯由煩惱微，
諸過壞其心，喪失善功德。
先當離我所，我所覆諸善，
猶灰覆火上，足蹈而覺燒。
憍慢覆其心，如日隱重雲，
慢怠滅慚愧，憂悲弱強志，
老病壞壯容，我慢滅諸善。
諸天阿修羅，貪嫉興諍訟，
喪失諸功德，悉由我慢懷。
我於勝中勝，我德勝者同，
我於勝小劣，斯則為愚夫，
色族悉無常，動搖不暫停，
終為磨滅法，何用憍慢為？
貪欲為巨患，詐親而密怨，
猛火從內發，貪火亦復然。
貪欲之熾燃，甚於世界火，
火盛水能滅，貪愛難可消。
猛火焚曠野，草盡還復生，
貪欲火焚心，正法生則難。
貪欲求世樂，樂增不淨業，
惡業墮惡道，怨無過貪欲。
貪則生於愛，愛則習諸欲，
習欲招眾苦，元惡無過貪，
貪則為大病，智藥愚夫止，
邪覺不正思，能令貪欲增。
無常苦不淨，無我無我所，
智慧真實觀，能滅彼邪貪。
是故於境界，當修真實觀，
真實觀已生，貪欲得解脫。
見德生貪欲，見過起瞋恚，
德過二俱忘，貪恚得除滅。
瞋恚改素容，能壞端正色，
瞋恚翳明目，害法義欲聞，
斷絕親愛義，為世所輕賤。
是故當捨恚，勿隨於瞋心，
能制狂恚心，是名善御者，
世稱善調駟，是為攝繩容。
縱恚不自禁，憂悔火隨燒，
若人起瞋恚，先自燒其心，
然後加於彼，或燒或不燒。
生老病死苦，逼迫於眾生，
復加於恚害，多怨復增怨。
見世眾苦迫，應起慈悲心，
眾生起煩惱，增微無量差。」
如來善方便，隨病而略說，
譬如世良醫，隨病而投藥。
爾時諸離車，聞佛所說法，
即起禮佛足，歡喜而頂受。
請佛及大眾，明日設薄供。
佛告諸離車：「菴摩羅已請。」
離車懷感愧，彼何奪我利？
知佛心平等，而起隨喜心。
如來善隨宜，安慰令心悅，
伏化純熟歸，如蛇被嚴呪。
夜過明相生，佛與大眾俱，
詣菴摩羅舍，受彼供養畢，
往詣毘紐村，於彼夏安居。
三月安居竟，復還鞞舍離，
住獼猴池側，坐於林樹間。
普放大光明，以感魔波旬，
來詣於佛所，合掌勸請言：
「昔尼連禪側，已發真實要，
我所作事畢，當入於涅槃。
今所作已作，當遂於本心。」
時佛告波旬：「滅度時不遠，
却後三月滿，當入於涅槃。」
時魔知如來，滅度已有期，
情願既已滿，歡喜還天宮。
如來坐樹下，正受三摩提，
放捨業報壽，神力住命存。
以如來捨壽，大地普震動，
十方虛空境，周遍大火然。
須彌頂崩頹，天雨飛礫石，
狂風四激起，樹木悉摧折，
天樂發哀聲，天人心忘歡。
佛從三昧起，普告諸眾生：
「我今已捨壽，三昧力存身，
身如朽敗車，無復往來因，
已脫於三有，如鳥破卵生。」

At that time, in Vaiśālī, the Licchavi elders,
hearing that the Bhagavat had entered their land and was staying in the Āmrapālī Grove,
some rode in plain chariots, with plain canopies and plain garments,
while others were blue, red, yellow, and green, the throng each with distinct attire.
Vanguards and attendants flanked them front and back, competing for the road and racing ahead;
with celestial diadems, robes embroidered with flowers, and adorned with precious gems,
their majestic appearance shone brilliantly, adding splendor to that forest grove.
Setting aside the five royal dignities, they stepped down from their chariots and proceeded on foot,
quelling pride and assuming a deferential posture, they prostrated at the Buddha's feet;
the great assembly encircled the Buddha like double rings of radiance around the sun.
There was a Licchavi named Siṃha, the chief of all the Licchavis;
his virtue and countenance were like a lion, holding the rank of a lion-like minister;
dispelling his lion-like arrogance, he received instruction from the Lion of the Śākyas:
"You possess great majesty and virtue, renowned lineage, and handsome countenance;
able to cast aside worldly arrogance, you receive the Dharma to increase your brilliance.
Adornment with wealth, beauty, scents, and flowers is not equal to the ornament of morality.
The prosperity and joy of the realm are glorified solely by you;
to bring glory to your persons and peace to the people lies in subduing and governing the mind.
If you add to this a love for the Dharma, your virtue will become ever more exalted;
not on barren land or among the vulgar can the multitude of the worthy assemble.
You should daily renew your virtue and nurture the myriad people,
guiding the multitude with clarity and righteousness, like a bull leading the herd across a ford.
If a person can reflect upon this life and the life to come,
they should cultivate only pure morality, for its blessings and benefits bring peace in both lives.
They are revered by the multitude, their renown spreads everywhere;
the benevolent delight in befriending them, and their flow of virtue is forever boundless.
Mountain forests and precious gemstones all arise dependent on the earth;
the virtue of morality is also like the earth, the source from which all good deeds arise.
To wish to soar into the sky without wings, to cross a river without a good boat—
for a person without the virtue of morality, crossing over suffering is truly difficult.
Just as a tree with beautiful flowers and fruit may have sharp thorns difficult to climb,
one of vast learning, fine beauty, and strength is likewise if they break morality.
Sitting upright in a magnificent palace hall, with a royal mind self-adorned,
replete with the virtues of pure morality, one follows the Great Ṛṣi on his march.
Dyeing clothes, wearing animal skins and feathers, coiling matted hair, or shaving beard and hair—
without cultivating the virtue of morality, one is merely wading into many afflictions.
Bathing three times day and night, venerating fire and practicing mortifications,
abandoning the body to foul wild beasts, leaping into water and fire or casting oneself from cliffs,
eating fruits, feeding on grass roots, inhaling the wind, and drinking the waters of the Gaṅgā,
consuming air to abstain from grain, yet being far removed from right morality—
practicing such ways of beasts, one is not a vessel for the true Dharma.
Breaking morality invites slander; the benevolent will not draw near.
The mind constantly harbors terror, and ill fame follows like a shadow;
there is no benefit in the present life, and how could peace be attained in the next?
Therefore, the wise person should cultivate pure morality;
in the wilderness of birth and death, morality is the good guide.
Upholding morality depends on one's own power; this is indeed not difficult.
Pure morality is a ladder that causes people to ascend to heaven.
That which establishes pure morality arises from the diminution of kleśas;
various faults ruin the mind and bring about the loss of wholesome virtues.
First, one must abandon clinging to 'mine'; clinging to 'mine' covers over all goodness,
just like ashes covering over a fire: stepping upon it, one feels the burn.
Arrogance covers the mind like the sun hidden behind heavy clouds;
arrogance and negligence extinguish shame and remorse; grief and sorrow weaken a strong resolve;
old age and disease ruin a vigorous countenance; the conceit of 'I' destroys all goodness.
The devas and the asuras, through greed and envy, gave rise to disputes;
the loss of all their virtues was entirely caused by harboring the conceit of 'I'.
'I am superior among the superior,' 'My virtue is equal to the superior,'
'I am only slightly inferior to the superior'—such is the fool;
form and clan are entirely impermanent, wavering and never resting for a moment;
in the end they are subject to destruction; what use is arrogance?
Greed is a immense calamity, pretending to be a friend while secretly a foe;
just as a fierce fire breaks out from within, the fire of greed is also like this.
The blazing of greed is worse than a worldly fire;
a fierce fire can be extinguished by water, but greedy attachment is difficult to dispel.
A fierce fire burns the wilderness, but once the grass is gone, it grows again;
when the fire of greed burns the mind, it is difficult for the true Dharma to arise.
Through greed one seeks worldly pleasures, but pleasures increase impure karma;
evil karma causes one to fall into the evil destinies; there is no foe greater than greed.
From greed is born attachment, and through attachment one indulges in various desires;
indulging in desires invites many sufferings; among primal evils, none surpasses greed.
Greed is a great sickness; the medicine of wisdom stops it for the fool.
Wrong perceptions and improper thoughts cause greed to increase.
Impermanent, suffering, impure, without self, and without 'mine'—
true contemplation with wisdom can extinguish that false greed.
Therefore, toward sensory objects, one should cultivate true contemplation;
once true contemplation has arisen, one attains liberation from greed.
Seeing virtue gives rise to greed; seeing faults gives rise to hatred;
forgetting both virtue and faults, greed and hatred are eradicated.
Hatred alters one's natural countenance, able to destroy a handsome appearance;
hatred veils clear eyes and harms the desire to hear the meaning of the Dharma;
it severs relationships of love and affection, and makes one despised by the world.
Therefore, one should abandon hatred and not follow an angry mind;
one who can restrain a mad, angry mind is called a skilled charioteer;
the world praises one who skillfully tames a team of four, which is achieved by holding the reins.
Indulging hatred without self-restraint, the fire of regret burns thereafter;
if a person gives rise to hatred, they first burn their own mind,
and only afterward direct it at the other, whether it burns them or not.
The sufferings of birth, old age, sickness, and death oppress sentient beings;
to add hatred and harm to this is to add more enmity to abundant enmity.
Seeing the world oppressed by many sufferings, one should give rise to a mind of compassion;
sentient beings give rise to kleśas with immeasurable differences in increase and decrease."
The Tathāgata, skilled in expedient means, spoke in brief according to the disease,
just as an excellent physician in the world administers medicine according to the ailment.
At that time, the Licchavis, having heard the Dharma spoken by the Buddha,
immediately arose, bowed at the Buddha's feet, and received it with joy atop their heads.
They invited the Buddha and the great assembly to a modest offering on the morrow.
The Buddha told the Licchavis: "Āmrapālī has already invited us."
The Licchavis felt regret and shame: "How has she snatched our advantage?"
Knowing that the Buddha's mind is impartial, they gave rise to a mind of rejoicing.
The Tathāgata, skillfully adapting to circumstances, comforted them and made their hearts glad;
subdued, transformed, and thoroughly ripened, they returned, like a snake subdued by a potent mantra.
The night passed and the dawn appeared; the Buddha, together with the great assembly,
went to Āmrapālī's house, and having received her offering,
proceeded to the village of Veṇu, and there entered the summer retreat.
When the three months of the retreat were finished, he returned again to Vaiśālī,
stayed beside the Monkey Pool, and sat among the grove of trees.
He emitted a vast, great light everywhere to move Māra Pāpīyān,
who came to the Buddha's place, joined his palms, and urged him, saying:
"Formerly beside the Nairañjanā, you already made a true vow:
'When my work is completed, I shall enter into nirvāṇa.'
Now what was to be done has been done; you should fulfill your original intention."
Then the Buddha told Pāpīyān: "The time of extinction is not far;
after three months are completed, I shall enter into nirvāṇa."
Then Māra knew that the Tathāgata's extinction already had a set time;
his wish having been fulfilled, he returned rejoicing to his heavenly palace.
The Tathāgata sat beneath a tree and entered into samādhi;
relinquishing the life span of karmic retribution, by spiritual power he maintained his life force.
Because the Tathāgata relinquished his life span, the great earth shook everywhere;
throughout the realms of space in the ten directions, great fires blazed all around.
The summit of Sumeru crumbled, the heavens rained down flying gravel and stones,
wild winds whipped up from the four quarters, trees were all broken and snapped,
celestial music produced mournful sounds, and gods and humans forgot their joy.
The Buddha arose from samādhi and addressed all sentient beings everywhere:
"I have now relinquished my life span, preserving the body through the power of samādhi;
the body is like a decayed chariot, no longer possessing causes for coming and going;
I am already freed from the three realms of existence, like a bird born breaking its shell."