佛所行讚 5.4

5.4

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."