Here’s the life of mortals,
wretched and brief,
its end unknown,
to dukkha joined.There’s no means that those
who’re born will never die.
Reached decay, then death:
the law for beings all.As with what’s ripe
there’s always fear of falling,
so for mortals born
there’s always fear of death.Just as a potter’s vessels
made of clay all end
by being broken, so
death’s the end of life.The young, those great in age,
the fools, as well the wise
all go under the sway
of death, for death’s their goal.Those overcome by death,
to another world bound:
father can’t protect his son,
nor relatives their kin.While relatives are watching,
they weep and they lament;
See mortals one by one,
led as an ox to slaughter.As the world’s afflicted
by death and by decay,
so the wise grieve not,
knowing world’s nature well.Their path you do not know
whereby they come, they go,
neither end you see,
useless your lament.While lamenting,
The confused harm themselves;
If any benefit could be found,
Would not the wise do it to?Not by weeping and wailing,
Can peace of mind be reached.
It just creates more suffering,
And distresses the body.You become thin and discolored,
Harming yourself with your self;
And the departed are not protected by this,
Lamentation is pointless!When grief is not abandoned,
A person falls into even more suffering;
Wailing over the dead,
They are overpowered by grief.See how others fare,
People passing on according to their deeds;
Creatures tremble,
As they fall under the sway of Death.Whatever you think it is,
It becomes something else.
Such is separation,
See the way of the world.Even if a person were to live
A hundred years or more,
They would still be divided from their family,
Abandoning this life.That is why having heard the arahant,
And dispelled lamentation;
When you see the dead and departed,
You don’t think you can get them back.Just as one would extinguish
A burning building with water;
So too a steadfast, wise one, a skilful, clever person,
Would quickly blow away
Grief when it arises,
As wind, a tuft of cotton.One who is seeking happiness
should draw out the painful dart—
lamentations and longings—
the grief that is within.Dart withdrawn and unattached,
the mind attains to peace,
passed beyond all grief,
griefless, fires put out.
snp.3.8 Suttanipata
Dart of Death
- Translator: Laurence Khantipalo Mills
The Dart
so mortals once bornUnforeseen and unknown
is the extent of this mortal life—
hard and short
and bound to pain.
There is no way that
those born will not die.
On reaching old age death follows:
such is the nature of living creatures.
As ripe fruit
are always in danger of falling,
are always in danger of death.
As clay pots
made by a potter
all end up being broken,
so is the life of mortals.
Young and old,
foolish and wise—
all go under the sway of death;
all are destined to die.
When those overcome by death
leave this world for the next,
a father cannot protect his son,
nor relatives their kin.
See how, while relatives look on,
wailing profusely,
mortals are led away one by one,
like a cow to the slaughter.
And so the world is stricken
by old age and by death.
That is why the wise do not grieve,
for they understand the way of the world.
For one whose path you do not know—
not whence they came nor where they went—
you lament in vain,
seeing neither end.
If a bewildered person,
lamenting and self-harming,
could extract any good from that,
then those who see clearly would do the same.
For not by weeping and wailing
will you find peace of heart.
It just gives rise to more suffering,
and distresses your body.
Growing thin and pale,
you hurt yourself.
It does nothing to help the dead:
your lamentation is in vain.
Unless a person gives up grief,
they fall into suffering all the more.
Bewailing those whose time has come,
you fall under the sway of grief.
See, too, other folk departing
to fare after their deeds;
fallen under the sway of death,
beings flounder while still here.
For whatever you imagine it is,
it turns out to be something else.
Such is separation:
see the way of the world!
Even if a human lives
a hundred years or more,
they are parted from their family circle,
they leave this life behind.
Therefore, having learned from the Perfected One,
dispel lamentation.
Seeing the dead and departed, think:
“I cannot escape this.”
As one would extinguish
a blazing refuge with water,
so too a sage—a wise,
astute, and skilled person—
would swiftly blow away grief that comes up,
like the wind a tuft of cotton.
One who seeks their own happiness
would pluck out the dart from themselves—
the wailing and moaning,
and sadness inside.
With dart plucked out, unattached,
having found peace of mind,
overcoming all sorrow,
one is sorrowless and extinguished.