First Chapter

The Serpent Sutta

Who removes arisen anger
as herbs a serpent’s venom spread;
a bhikkhu such leaves here and there
as a serpent sloughs its worn-out skin.

Who lust pulls up remainderless
as in water, plants and blooms of lotuses;
a bhikkhu such leaves here and there
as a serpent sloughs its worn-out skin.

Who craving dams remainderless
as drying of a river’s fierce and rapid flow;
a bhikkhu such leaves here and there
as a serpent sloughs its worn-out skin.

Who destroys conceit entire
as a great flood a bridge of reeds so frail;
a bhikkhu such leaves here and there
as a serpent sloughs its worn-out skin.

Who in rebirths no essence finds
as a seeker of flowers on Udumbara trees;
a bhikkhu such leaves here and there
as a serpent sloughs its worn-out skin.

Who keeps no grudges inwardly
but this “being-not being” has gone beyond;
a bhikkhu such leaves here and there
as a serpent sloughs its worn-out skin.

In who do thoughts no longer smoulder,
internally curtailed, remainderless;
a bhikkhu such leaves here and there
as a serpent sloughs its worn-out skin.

Who neither goes too far nor lags behind,
all mind-proliferation gone beyond;
a bhikkhu such leaves here and there
as a serpent sloughs its worn-out skin.

Who neither goes too far nor lags behind,
who of the world has Known, “All is not thus”;
a bhikkhu such leaves here and there
as a serpent sloughs its worn-out skin.

Who neither goes too far nor lags behind,
who free of greed has Known, “All is not thus”;
a bhikkhu such leaves here and there
as a serpent sloughs its worn-out skin.

Who neither goes too far nor lags behind,
who free of lust has Known, “All is not thus”;
a bhikkhu such leaves here and there
as a serpent sloughs its worn-out skin.

Who neither goes too far nor lags behind,
who free of hate has Known, “All is not thus”;
a bhikkhu such leaves here and there
as a serpent sloughs its worn-out skin.

Who neither goes too far nor lags behind,
who delusion-free has Known, “All is not thus”;
a bhikkhu such leaves here and there
as a serpent sloughs its worn-out skin.

In whom are no latent tendencies at all—
whose roots of evil completely are expunged;
a bhikkhu such leaves here and there
as a serpent sloughs its worn-out skin.

In whom is no anxiety at all
to cause return to this existence here;
a bhikkhu such leaves here and there
as a serpent sloughs its worn-out skin.

In whom no attachment formed at all
to cause return to all existences;
a bhikkhu such leaves here and there
as a serpent sloughs its worn-out skin.

Who’s left behind five hindrances,
serene then, crossed doubt, lacking inner barbs;
a bhikkhu such leaves here and there
as a serpent sloughs its worn-out skin.

- Translator: Laurence Khantipalo Mills

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The Serpent

When anger surges, they drive it out,
as with medicine a snake’s spreading venom.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.
They’ve cut off greed entirely,
like a lotus plucked flower and stalk.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.
They’ve cut off craving entirely,
drying up that swift-flowing stream.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.
They’ve swept away conceit entirely,
as a fragile bridge of reeds by a great flood.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.
In future lives they find no substance,
as an inspector of fig trees finds no flower.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.
They hide no anger within,
gone beyond any kind of existence.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.
Their mental vibrations are cleared away,
internally clipped off entirely.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.
They have not run too far nor run back,
but have gone beyond all this proliferation.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.
They have not run too far nor run back,
for they know that nothing in the world <j>is what it seems.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.
They have not run too far nor run back,
knowing nothing is what it seems, free of greed.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.
They have not run too far nor run back,
knowing nothing is what it seems, free of lust.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.
They have not run too far nor run back,
knowing nothing is what it seems, free of hate.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.
They have not run too far nor run back,
knowing nothing is what it seems, free of delusion.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.
They have no underlying tendencies at all,
and are rid of unskillful roots,
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.
They have nothing born of distress at all,
that might cause them to come back to this near shore.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.
They have nothing born of entanglement at all,
that would shackle them to a new life.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.
They’ve given up the five hindrances,
untroubled, rid of doubt, free of thorns.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.